The Beginning to an End
by tarnished glitter
Summary: It's been a year since the wars have ended, and Duo has some serious problems that are slowly killing him. 1x2, self-injury, eating disorders. A different look at depression, cutting, and ED's.
1. Prologue

A/N: I don't really know where this idea came from. This is going to be a difficult story for me to write, for many reasons. But I'm going to try and stick with it, because far too many stories on this subject glamorize depression, anorexia, cutting. I want to write something different, something closer to the truth. So this was my idea. I'm no therapist or doctor, I know only what I see and experience, and what I learn from others like me. There are very many people out there who hate the topics I'm going to introduce, because some are very controversial. I guess I just want to tell another side to the story, what it's like on the other side of the fence. I'm sick of seeing my friends getting abused – yes, abused – by idiots who don't know a thing, who speak without thinking, who preach what they know nothing about. My hope is that, after reading this, some of you will have a better idea of the reality of ED's and cutting, and an understanding of why some people with eating disorders do the things they do.

* * *

Eighty-six. The number flashes eerily through my mind, my corneas burning with the digits that scorned their surface not 15 minutes ago.

Eighty-six. Two neon green numbers glaring me in the face, glowing, frightening in their intensity. Almost as if they were taunting me. A testament to the fact that I've fucked up, yet again. Only this time, my mistakes have led to devastating consequences.

It's my fault, really. I can't blame him, however much I want to. He hid it well, but still... I should have said something. It's not as if I didn't notice. I did. I saw how his normally form-hugging clothing grew daily, how his already naturally thin frame shrunk, in contrast, as the days went by – the fabric now hanging off of his frail frame, striking a remarkable (and disturbing) resemblance to clothes hanging off of a wire hanger. I watched the bags under his eyes grow darker and darker, the bones on the sides of his pale face becoming more pronounced, now the predominant features on his face. I want to blame him... But I can't.

Eighty-six.

I shiver, not so much from any real lack of heat but more an internal chill, and pull my down comforter a little tighter around my body, curling into myself, making my body into a tight ball. I clench and re-clench my fists, my overgrown nails digging painfully into flesh, as I bite my lip and blink against the tears threatening to break. The metallic tang of blood in my mouth prompts me to release some of the pressure, and I let out a shuddery sigh, no longer fighting against the welling behind my eyelids.

I should have known. At first, I believed his lies, his excuses, his dismissals. Maybe... Maybe I was trying to convince myself just as desperately as he was that his words were the truth. That he really was just sick with a cold, or feeling a bit run down. That he'd already grabbed a bite at Quatre's, or that he was going out to dinner with Wufei later that night. I doubted, I feared, I suspected... But I never asked for confirmation from the others if these excuses were just that: Excuses.

Eighty-six.

As time went by though, I began to see his words for what they really were. I began picking up on the small things that I had failed to notice before – how he would take a sip of water after each miniscule bite, and the fact that his after-dinner "showers" grew in length as the weeks went by. The situation was spiraling out of control, and fast, and for the first time in my life... I could not come up with an easy solution. There was no equation that would solve this problem. I could not just type out the components on my laptop and within minutes come up with hundreds of results, dozens of ways in which to right the wrongs.

I pride myself on my intellect, my ability to solve problems, spot solutions and fix tribulations before they grow out of control. What went wrong this time? How could I have overlooked _this_? It was the pink elephant that I did not want to acknowledge.

Eighty-six.

He sleeps now, peacefully, in his room. An unconscious rest, the result of too many skipped meals, too many nights spent tossing and turning, the product of hunger-induced insomnia. I fear now that it may be too late for him, for me... for us. I try hard not to look back on my mistakes though, try not to focus too much on the "what if"'s. The solutions don't lie in the past, but rather in the future. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow he has agreed to pay a visit to Sally's clinic on L2. Tomorrow we will look together for the answers to questions we have yet to ask. But for now... For now, I can only rest, and wait. I'll wait forever. This is a promise I make to myself right here and now. I know that we have a long journey ahead of us, a long, twisting path of tears, screams, anger, regret, and misery. But it is one path that I refuse to stray from. I will be here with him now, forever. And together, somehow, some way... we will pull through.


	2. I Need a Reflection to Prove I Exist

Disclaimer: Do not Gundam Wing, have never even seen an episode. . The title of this chapter is a lyric from he best band _ever_, the Manic Street Preachers.

Note to Dagger Maxwell: The first person's identity was implied, if you go back and read it carefully, you'll probably catch it. ;)

A/N: Oh, and in this chapter, I know it seems like Relena is the one with the eating disorder, but it's not her. Heh, but you'll find out more about that in later chapters. And 1x2 will come eventually, I promise!

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**Chapter Two:** I Need a Reflection to Prove I Exist

(6 months previously)

Amethyst eyes glowed dangerously, gaze fixed on the identical violet orbs reflected in the glass. He had been staring into the hollow depths of his eyes for the past twenty minutes, as if by looking long enough, glaring hard enough, he could see into his soul. Perhaps if he could see inside himself, he could figure out his emotions, his feelings. These were things he had not been able to identify for months now. Ever since It started. "It" was the cause of the current scowl marring his fragile features, was the reason he now spent his days locked up in his room, secluded from his friends, his peers, the world.

Duo steadfastly refused think of the It, refocusing his thoughts instead on the solution. He knew what the problem was, there was no doubt in his mind. His troubles lay in his confusion, his inability to decipher something as simple as an emotion, a feeling, a thought. For example, he knew that he loved Heero. He was his best friend, after all, they had been through war together. Had fought next to each other, killed, saved, protected, survived… comrades in arms. But where does "love" turn into "in love"? And Duo knew, always had known, that he found the Japanese man attractive… But where does thinking someone is attractive turn into _attraction_? It was such a thin line, one that blurred in his mind, had him reeling and grasping blindly for an answer.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a soft, tentative knock on the door. Duo sighed, turning from the image of himself, and reached over to open the door just slightly. Through the crack in the wood, he could make out one sapphire blue eye, and when he pulled the mahogany barrier open further, blonde hair and a slight frown were revealed. Moaning inaudibly, Duo plastered his trademark grin on his face, and bounded outside to join Quatre in the hallway.

"Hey Q-Man, what's up?" Though he was lacking in energy these days, he forced himself to bounce slightly on his toes as his friend eyed him warily.

Pulling his lips up in a grin to match Duo's, Quatre tore his eyes from the other's figure, and said, "Well, it's almost 2:00 and you haven't come out of your room yet. I was just wondering…" He coughed slightly, uncomfortable, averting his gaze yet again before continuing. "Well, we were worried, and…"

Not giving him a chance to continue, Duo cut in, his tone infused with a cheerfulness he did not feel, "Well yeah, Quat, a guy needs his beauty sleep, doesn't he?" A sly smile, a wink.

A snort was heard behind the two pilots, and Duo turned to face Wufei who had apparently overheard the conversation. "Yes, and Nataku knows, Maxwell, you need plenty of it!"

Sighing, Duo only looked away. He simply did not have the energy today to stage another mock argument with Wufei. Instead, he merely frowned and muttered under his breath, "Yeah, well…"

Behind him, Wufei and Quatre exchanged a look, their eyes dancing with concern, and suspicion over Duo's uncharacteristic behavior.

Noticing the odd behavior of his friends, Duo turned to face them again, face lit up in a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Wincing slightly at the sudden pain flowing through his heart, Quatre meekly returned the grin. "Hey Duo, why don't you come down for some lunch? Relena is here, so I thought it would be nice to…" His voice trailed off once he noticed the scowl that washed over Duo's face at the name "Relena". He bit his lip, wishing that he had been more careful with his choice in words. He knew of Duo's feelings for Heero, had sensed them in his heart from as early as the war days. They were strong enough to overpower any other emotion when he and Duo were in the same room together, and it pained Quatre greatly to watch as Heero rejected him day after day, simply by being with Relena.

Wufei, noticing the sickly, pale color Duo's face had taken, put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yes Duo," he began quietly, catching the braided man's attention by using his first name. "Why don't you come down? I'm sure Trowa and Heero would love to see you…"

Swallowing the anger and resentment he felt rising up inside of him, Duo only nodded mutely and followed the two pilots down the long, winding staircase, down to the fancy dining room of one of Quatre's mansions. The five ex-pilots had been living here, together, for the past year, since the last war had ended. Each had tried to make it on their own, but soon found that their experiences, their traumas, their history, were unique, and unaccepted by society. They soon drifted back to each other, finding solace in the fact that each man understood, and did not judge. Understanding. A quality that the five men could not find in the general public.

"Duo!"

A shrill, high-pitched voice roused the braided man from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Relena rushing towards him, arms open in greeting.

Fighting back the urge to roll his eyes and shove her away, he returned her hug briefly. She really was a sweet girl, he justified. A good friend, not only to Heero, but to himself, as well as the other three pilots.

Thoughts of Relena brought upon another emotion for Duo, another which confused him, had him feeling helpless and lost. Jealousy. Yes, he was jealous of the relationship that she and Heero shared, he could admit that. But was he jealous of their closeness, their friendship, or… something else? The intimacy, the physical relationship he knew he could never have? He didn't know. And this not knowing was what affected him the most, for he was sure that once he could _figure out_ what he was feeling, he could put a stop to these troublesome emotions.

"Duo?"

Snapping his head up, the America shook his head clear before focusing on the girl before him. Flashing Relena a guilty grin, he quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Eh, what was that?"

"I asked if you would like to join the rest of us for lunch? Quatre's chef has prepared the most delightful Arabian dish, you must come and try it!"

Duo had to smile at the proper way Relena spoke. He almost felt sorry for her, the Queen of the World, constantly under the watchful eye of the media. She must be perfect all the time, in her speech, her mannerisms, her appearance, and every aspect of her personality. In this way, she seemed to be ideally suited for The Perfect Soldier.

"Sure! What are we having?" Duo asked cheerfully, bounding over to the large table and surveying the dishes, and the food that lay piled upon them. He stopped once his eyes settled on a near empty China plate, stacked high with lettuce and cucumbers, but nothing of real sustenance. Raising an eyebrow at the blonde teen, he motioned towards the plate in question. "What's up with the rabbit food, huh? You can't seriously live on just that, can you?!"

Blushing a pink to match the shade of her dress, Relena looked down and murmured, "I'm on a bit of a diet, I suppose." Duo nodded his understanding, feeling sorry for the girl not for the first time since he'd come down.

He watched his friends take their seats, Quatre and Trowa sitting close together, hands held discreetly under the linen cloth, Wufei taking the seat at the head of the table, and Heero and Relena sitting side by side, backs held straight, maintaining their posture, eyes downcast and focusing solely on the scant food on their plates that they merely picked at. Duo sighed, knowing that Heero must also be feeling some of Relena's pressure, simply by being her boyfriend, a main part in her life – a big story for the media.

Duo ate his lunch silently, keeping his eyes focused on the young couple seated across from him. And as he observed, he realized what it was that the two shared in common, realized what made them fit so well together: Perfection. He, the Perfect Soldier, she the Queen of the World, each working so hard to uphold a certain image. _Perfection_. The world rolled through his head, as he repeated it over and over, like a mantra. _Perfection, perfection, perfection, perfection_. And slowly an idea began to form in his mind, an idea which made him smile the first real, genuine grin that he'd flashed since the war ended.

Mission: To win over the Perfect Soldier, capture his friendship, his love, whatever it may be…

Mission: Accepted.


	3. Problem is Diet's Not a Big Enough Word

**Chapter Two:** Problem is "diet's" not a big enough word

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "4st. 7lbs." by the Manic Street Preachers.

IMPORTANT A/N: Ok, now here's where the story gets controversial. And I don't just mean by pairing two guys together. In this chapter, Duo is going to "discover" pro [anorexia]. Now, I personally am not pro, though.. I have to admit that, yes, I used to be. However, I do have friends who currently _are_ pro. Wonderful friends, amazing people who I love very dearly. I know that the general population absolutely despises people who are pro anorexic and/or bulimic. And I understand how you would feel like that, BUT I have another understanding that you probably don't. I don't want to get into the why's, the what's, any bullshit explanation, because that's not important right now. I'm putting this note here for one reason, and one reason only: Do NOT flame this story simply because I'm incorporating something that is very controversial. Please don't even leave a review saying, "Cool story, but I don't understand pro! Those people are crazy!!!" "Those people" most certainly are _not_ crazy. Misguided? Maybe. Sick? Probably. But I'm not going to judge, and neither should you. Please don't even comment on the weight loss aspect, ok? Because, as I'm going to explain in later chapters of this story, anorexia, pro ana, bulimia, pro mia, it's not solely to lose weight, and anyone with any sort of ED will tell you the same. Like I said in the story summary and other A/N's, I plan on making this story very different from all the others on this topic. Please do bear with me, ok? In this day and age, "pro ana" is a very big part of eating disorders, part of the truth that so often gets overlooked in fan/fiction. If you don't understand, that's ok. You shouldn't _have_ to understand something like that, no one should. But please don't judge, don't assume, and don't flame. I would appreciate it very much if you just kept the negative comments on pro to yourself. I will be exploring the why's, what's, and explanations in later chapters, because I desperately want people to get it, to understand what it's like to be in such a desperate position that you turn to something so destructive, turn to people who actually encourage it. And I want you to understand that said people are NOT bad, crazy, or disgusting. I promise I will explore all this later, but for now, just bear with me. Please. If you're still reading this, thank you. And now, on to the story! :

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As the weeks went by, he began to stare at himself more and more, studying the reflection in the glass, focusing on the curves of his face, his hips, his chest, until he felt like he was falling _into_ the mirror. Falling into the depths, slowly fading away into a world of make believe, a world of funhouse mirrors where up is down, right is wrong, white is black, and thin is fat.

He told no one of his plan, of his newfound quest for perfection, for he knew that the others wouldn't approve of such things. He kept it to himself, hiding out and secluding himself more and more as the days went by.

It started with the diet, coupled with the new grooming rituals, and ended in perfection. Or so he believed. Everything in his life was now calculated, every last minute of his day planned out, recorded, analyzed. Just like Heero and his mission logs, just like Relena and her busy schedules. It felt good because for the first time in his life, Duo wasn't confused. There was no tiptoeing around the right and wrong, second-guessing his feelings for his best friend. He was in control of his life, and therefore in control of what he felt, experienced, and believed. At least, that is what he managed to convince himself. There were still the dark shadows lurking in the back of his mind, but with the newly found rituals, those shadows, whispers, fears of the unknown, could be pushed aside, ignored. At least for the time being.

Suddenly, a soft beeping resounded throughout the otherwise quiet room, and Duo smiled, reaching down to turn off the alarm on his wristwatch. 12:00 on the dot, time for lunch. Can't be late, if you're late, you don't eat. Rush downstairs, the seconds are ticking away, faster, run!

Breath hitching, Duo slid down into a chair in Quatre's elaborate dining room, checking his watch again quickly. 12:00 and 57 seconds. He'd made it! Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he slowly stood and made his way over to the refrigerator, eyes gliding over the rich contents of the shelves. Smirking, he pulled out the lettuce he had seen Relena eating at that infamous lunch three weeks ago, and added to it the Japanese dish he had seen Heero consume last night for dinner. This particular meal wasn't exactly low in calorie, but he'd been doing well on his diet thus far, already having lost three pounds in two weeks. So, just this once, he reasoned, the rich meal could be allowed.

Fork on the left side of the plate, knife on the right, serrated edge facing inwards, towards the dish. Wait two seconds, pick up the fork, wait one more moment, pick up the knife. Then, and only then, was he allowed to eat, and enjoy his meal.

And enjoy it he did. Savoring each and every bite, Duo licked his lips once the last mouthful had been swallowed, and he smiled. A real, genuine grin. He had eaten what he planned, not gone over, not gone under, and had finished in the allotted time. Yes, things were looking up for him.

A muffled noise was heard from behind him, and Duo turned around to face Heero, who was pulling on his leather jacket and opening the front door.

"Hey Hee-chan, where you off to?"

"Relena."

A slight frown, quickly disguised and flipped into a grin. "Ah. Well, tell her Majesty that I said hello!"

"Hn."

And then he was gone, and Duo was alone, once again. Trowa, Wufei, and Quatre were out for the afternoon, visiting Catherine at the circus. Only Heero and Duo had opted to stay home, each for their own reasons. For once though, Duo was not afraid of the solitude, uncomfortable with it, as he had once been. Now, he enjoyed it, for it was the only time he could truly be _himself_, free of the masks, the façade, the silly grin that he wore about his friends, his peers, the world.

Standing quickly, Duo made his way to the bathroom, washing his hands before casually checking his reflection once again in the mirror. Satisfied with the image staring back at him, he quietly stepped on the scale and watched as the numbers climbed, higher, higher, higher. Biting back a gasp of surprise, a groan of horror, Duo gaped at the numbers glaring him in the face. 156.. Three pounds more than the day before! And all from one meal?!

Kicking the scale with his steal-toed boots, Duo scowled at his reflection, no longer pleased with the image, and stormed angrily out of the bathroom, into the room he and Heero once shared. Glancing at the laptop laying on a desk in the corner, Duo got a dangerous idea.

He did not know much about nutrition, didn't know the right sort of foods to eat on a diet, how much to consume daily, weekly, how much to exercise, what to do, what not to do. He couldn't ask someone like Relena, who he suspected knew very much about the do's and don'ts of dieting, so where better to find the information than on the web? He knew that his friend would absolutely _murder_ him if he found out, but Duo wasn't called Shinigami for nothing. No one would find out, and he would have the information he needed to make his plan a success.

Checking once more to make sure that he was alone, the American sat down tentatively in front of the computer, almost as if he was afraid it was a bomb, ready to explode the second he touched it. He waited patiently while the machine loaded up, and when it did, he signed online and did a search under the word "diet". Suddenly, thousands of sites were staring him back in the face, the titles and organizations many. Shrugging, Duo clicked on the first link listed without looking at the name or the URL.

"Perfect Ones, your guide to pro ana" appeared on the screen, and Duo quirked an eyebrow in surprise. Pro ana? He'd never before heard the term, but the contents on the site intrigued him. "Tips and tricks", "table manners", "safe foods", "thinspiration". The last one caused a frown to pull slightly at his lips, but nevertheless, he continued clicking, curiosity getting the best of him.

Curiosity, of course, killed the cat.


	4. I Have Got to Stop Smiling It Gives the...

**Chapter Three:** I Have Got to Stop Smiling – It Gives the Wrong Impression

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "You Stole the Sun from My Heart." by the Manic Street Preachers.

IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;

A/N: I'm not at _all_ happy with how this chapter came out. It's basically just a transitional chapter, this stuff is just filler. Bleh. More soon, and hopefully the future chapters will be better than this one!! I'll be getting more into the psychological aspects of Duo's problem/s later on. Just figured I'd mention that in case anyone was wondering. ;

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"Maxwell?"

One, two, three… bite, chew…. One, two, three four… 

"Maxwell."

Fork down, knife down. One, two. Drink, one sip, two sips… God, this is annoying. 

"MAXWELL!"

Dropping his glass in surprise, Duo looked up from his plate at the angry Chinese man sitting across the table from him. Glowering at his now snickering friend, Duo cursed under his breath and reached out for a napkin to mop up the water that had soaked into his lap from the fallen cup of water.

"Aw, did Duo wet his pants?" Wufei teased, forgetting all about his original question, earning another death glare in response from the American.

Flipping him off, Duo stood from the table quickly and ran to the room he and Heero still shared, slamming the door shut and sighing deeply. Despite his anger, he was secretly glad for Wufei's distraction. He was starting to lose control of himself during that meal. Four second counts between bites had turned into three, then two, and by the time he had been so rudely called to attention, he had been about to discard the four second ritual completely. It was annoying as all hell, but when followed correctly, was effective in keeping his mind focused on the food, and keeping himself in complete control.

It had been one month since Duo had first visited his first "pro ana" site. At first, he had been horrified, disgusted, shocked. But he couldn't deny that the sites, the underground community of misfits like himself, had a certain pull, something that attracted him, kept him going back for more. He did not consider himself to be pro anorexic. No, never that. That was crazy, and he was not crazy. He was simply… pro thin. Pro _perfection_.

His plan had been working. Over the course of the past few weeks, he'd caught Heero glancing at him on more than one occasion, then steadfastly refusing to meet his eye when caught. This was progress. He was getting in shape, getting in control of his life, obtaining the perfection that he was so sure the Japanese man desired, and he had never been happier. Not eating – he refused to call what he was doing "starvation" – was the best high he'd ever experienced. Better than any of the drugs he had dabbled with back when the war had first ended. He thought it was amazing: The euphoric feeling of light-headedness, the promising contracting of stomach muscles that told him he was doing a good job, the overall feeling of _right_ he experienced when he talked to other people who just… _got it_. Understood what it was like to feel so unloved, so small in a crowd of many, invisible even when in the spotlight. This was Duo's logic in continuing with his frequent visits to the sites: "These people get me, understand me better than any of my so-called 'friends' ever did." He was convinced that they would help him achieve his goal of perfection, and not judge him in the manner he chose to go about pursuing it.

Save Heero, his friends were now convinced that Duo's depression was short-term, just some post-war trauma. After all, each of them had experienced that to some degree, hadn't they? And the American was returning to his normal self again. Arguing with Wufei, grinning, laughing, joking. What they didn't realize was that the jokes now had a bitter edge, almost mocking, and were aimed always towards himself. What they failed to see was that the devilish grins always held a bit of resentment in them, and were bitter, almost cruel. Like his jokes. Quatre, Trowa and Wufei were blind to these facts, only seeing in one-dimension, refusing to look past the outer exterior to the grime lurking underneath. Heero, however, noticed the shift in behavior, and was not at all fooled by the mask his friend wore, his force field against the rest of the world.

Heero, of course, never mentioned this to the other pilots. He knew it was not his place, and besides… He was sure he was reading too much into things, trying to make a something out of a nothing. That afternoon though, watching the meticulous way Duo cut up his food, eyeing the precarious way he chewed and sipped from his cup, he decided he would say something to Relena. If nothing else, the girl was his best friend, someone who understood the type of pressure he was always under from J and the other lunatics who had had a hand in raising him.

Relena had not been present that day during lunch. She hadn't been to the estate at all in the past month, since lately she and Heero had been living together in her palace. The past two weeks though, the Japanese man had opted to stay at his other home at Quatre's estate, secluding himself from his girlfriend, and the rest of his friends as well. So when Heero called up on the vidphone and described the odd behavioral patterns he had noticed in Duo, she was surprised, to say the least.

"…And it's not only the behaviors. It's… his whole attitude." Heero took a deep breath, clenching and re-clenching his fists at his side. Talking was not his forte, as his friends knew all too well, but… In the past year since the Eve Wars had ended, he had been getting better at it. Had been loosening up more, and learning to show some of those repressed emotions.

Relena could see right now that the emotion he was trying hard to conceal was concern. A deep worry etched his brow, danced in his eyes, and she didn't know what to make of this.

"So…" she began, haltingly. "He's not been eating much? What else have you noticed?" She hadn't seen Duo in weeks, it was entirely too early for her to jump to conclusions, to say what it was she suspected it might be, from Heero's vague description.

"He taps."

"Excuse me?"

Heero cleared his throat, clenched his fist yet again. "Tapping. He taps."

Relena paused a moment before responding, trying to understand what the ex-pilot meant. "You mean, like his foot?"

"Hn." Nodding, the Japanese man shut his eyes for a second, thinking, then deciding to elaborate. "And his fingers. It's not just fidgeting though, there's almost… a rhythm."

Relena frowned, confusion plaguing her mind. Quietly she asked, "Has… Has he lost any weight, Heero? I mean, you say he hasn't been eating as much…"

"I… don't know," the Wing pilot answered quietly, the words falling harshly from his lips. This was not a phrase he said often, and was one he would not like to repeat. Relena didn't say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. "His clothes are baggy. And black. I cannot see his body."

Relena nodded in understanding. "Have you said anything to him about it?"

"No. It is not my place."

Sighing quietly, Relena twisted a lock of her wheat blonde hair around a slender finger, a nervous habit she'd picked up as a child. What she was about to say next, she feared would only make her friend feel worse. But she knew – had known for a long time, in fact – that she and Heero could never work out. There was chemistry between them, yes, as well as a strong emotional connection. But the pair were simply…too similar. Too concentrated on keeping up appearances, shaping themselves, conforming to fit others' unrealistic expectations, to give the other the attention and love they deserved. The queen also could see that the romance was gone from their relationship. Where once they had spent long nights walking on the beach, hand-in-hand, staring at the stars, they new spent 90% of their time apart – Relena in conferences with colleagues, or with Dorothy and Noin; Heero at the estate with the other pilots. They were little more than good friends at this point, and she knew Heero could see this too.

Finally gathering up her courage, Relena started, "Baby, do you think maybe it's time that you move back to Quatre's… on a more permanent basis?" Upon seeing Heero's confused look, she hurried on, "I mean, with everything that's going on with Duo… It just seems that he needs you more than I do right now. Besides," she paused, sighing a bit before continuing. "You and I… We're not what we used to be, Heero." Her voice was soft, gentle. She could literally feel her heart breaking in two in her chest, her insides twisting painfully as the words poured from her mouth. She loved him so much that sometimes it hurt… She loved him enough to let him go.

"Rel," the ex-pilot started, but was interrupted by the girl's comforting voice.

"It's ok, Heero. I understand. You're still my number one man though," she said, teasing gently. "My best friend."

Accepting the words, Heero frowned, the pain barely concealed in his eyes, but nodded. "Forever," he whispered, placing a tentative hand over his heart.

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I like to give her some depth, lol. Sorry if anyone dislikes that. .  This chapter ending makes me want to gag. It's awful, and I'm sorry for that. But I didn't know what else to do. Like I said, this is mostly a transitional chapter.


	5. Love Your Masks and Adore Your Failure

**Chapter Four:** Love your masks and adore your failure

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "Stay Beautiful" by the Manic Street Preachers.

IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;

Dedication: Dragen Eyes. Because she sent me the most lovely e-mail, lol. [which I AM going to respond to! Ugh, my computer is dying so I can't get online half the time .]

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He'd never intended it to be more than a diet. He didn't want a disorder, an obsession, a lifestyle. But where does diet end and anorexia begin? He wasn't so sure anymore, and that, more than anything, was what scared him.

The days were short, his nights long, filled with hours of exercising, sneaking down into the kitchen to eat while no one else was around, and borrowing Heero's laptop to visit his websites, talk to his newfound friends. He didn't realize that the insomnia he had always despised was caused by the diet.

It was late one night in early June when Duo tiptoed down the creaky staircase, his braid heavy with sweat and sticking to his neck, beads of perspiration resting on his forehead, that the suspicions began. He'd been doing it for the past few weeks, staying up late so he could eat when no was awake to "catch" him. For Duo, eating in front of others had become a humiliation. He felt at his most vulnerable when his friends watched his eating habits, and this was the reason for the recent late-night binging.

So far, no one had caught on. No one even _suspected_, and though glad that his secret was safe for the time being, another part of Duo was bitter. Ever since Heero and Relena had broken up, the other pilots' attention had been focused solely on the Perfect Soldier. He couldn't help but hate his friends for this. He had been in so much pain for so long, and still they failed to notice. He hid behind a smile, a grin, so transparent that he felt almost angry with his friends for not seeing through to the real him. But when Heero shows one sign of emotion, they all come running to help. The plus side to this was that they were all too busy with Heero to notice his own deterioration, his fall into the abyss.

And so it was that on that summer night, Duo entered the kitchen, for once not taking care to be absolutely silent, in fear of waking his friends. He felt sick to his stomach, and had to lean over the sink for a few seconds before standing again, shaking his head clear, and walking to the refrigerator. Stomach muscles weakened by months of starvation coupled with an ungodly amount of stress had caused him to become violently ill at least one or two times a day. He knew what would fix it though.

Standing in front of the open door, he relished in the cool breeze that washed over his sweat-soaked body, just standing there and relaxing for a moment before digging into his private "stash". The food he had bought – and hidden – just for himself, for moments and for nights like these. He wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing, oh he knew exactly what he was doing. But.. the fact was that he just couldn't stop. And as long as he undid the deed, erased the mistake, the storm in Duo's mind was calm, at least until the next time.

Ice cream (so soft and easy to reverse), crackers, cookies, a million and one forbidden foods passed his lips. It was the only time that he allowed himself to eat "normally", without rituals, counting, hiding, and controlling. Though he supposed it wasn't exactly "normal" to shove two or three cookies in his mouth at once, to swallow barely having tasted the food, not even bothering with the nuance of chewing. He refused to think about that.. He concentrated solely on the fact that he would be able to get rid of it all. If he could just keep his mind focused on that, he would be all right.

Suddenly, a small cough echoed through the room, and Duo jumped in his seat, nearly crying out in surprise and in shame. He looked up guiltily to find Heero standing in the doorway, just…staring.

Fear, guilt, anger, humiliation, frustration… All of it came crashing down on Duo in that one instant, and he snapped. Joker's mask gone, smiles forgotten.

"What the fuck do you want, Yuy?" he asked in a dangerous voice. Though voiced softly, the tone spoke volumes.

For the first time in his life, Heero looked uncomfortable. This threw Duo off for a second, and he forgot his anger and embarrassment just for one moment.

"I, uh.. What are you doing?" the Japanese asked quietly, unsure of how to handle this situation. Unsure what situation it _was_ exactly that he should be handling.

"What the fuck does it look like? Jesus, I'm fucking eating, is that such a crime?!" Duo felt that Heero's odd look was one of disapproval, that since he was caught in the act, his friend must think he was a pig, an unworthy person, someone who needed and wanted and craved.

"No, but…" Heero trailed off, his eyes scanning the various bags and containers scattered all around the kitchen. "It is 3:00 in the morning, you do realize that." It was more a statement than a question, and Duo knew this.

"So what?" Looking down, he once again felt vulnerable, and it was in that moment that the realization sunk in. He had eaten.. No, he had _binged_, and now he was sitting around having a conversation with his friend instead of getting rid of it. He began to panic, his hands shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "I have to go," he muttered before standing and starting towards the bathroom.

Two hands grasping tightly around his waist stopped Duo in his tracks, and he turned around to punch the man who had stopped him.

"Duo, what is going on?"

Hand poised in midair, ready to come in contact with flesh, he stopped, and just started for a moment at his friend. There was something in his eyes that Duo had never seen before. Concern? Care? …Worry? And then, just as suddenly as his anger had flared, he deflated in Heero's arms, tears rapidly filling the amethyst eyes.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Duo murmured, blinking swiftly in an attempt to combat the oncoming tears.

The only thing Heero knew right then was that he had to keep his friend out of the bathroom, at all costs. He didn't know why, but something in Duo's eyes… Something was off, though he couldn't tell just what it was. Looking back later, he would reflect that this was one of the moments he should have grown suspicious. Should have realized what was going on, and put a stop to it immediately, instead of pretending it all away.

"No," he stated firmly, as the American attempted desperately to pry himself away. Heero's grip around his stomach only increased, and it was then that Heero drew back in shock and stared at Duo, horrified. Seeing his expression, Duo paused in his mad dash to the bathroom, suddenly feeling very afraid.

"What is it, Hee-chan?" he asked, attempting to hide the pain he felt, trying to do anything he could to get himself out of this situation.

"What… How much… When was the last time you weighed yourself, Duo?"

Fear. Cold, icy fear gripping his heart, squeezing it and constricting, while his stomach dropped and his body froze.

"What do you mean?"

Visibly shaken, Heero took a cautious step forward, reaching his hand out to grasp a hold of Duo's nightshirt.

"Heero, what are you doing?!"

Not bothering to venture a response, Heero quickly tore the shirt off of Duo's frail body, and took in the image before him. Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach, and for the moment could do nothing but stare in shock.

It wasn't like his body was emaciated, each rib pronounced and protruding over stretched skin. It wasn't that, not yet, but the muscles that had once rippled across Duo's frame were long gone, he looked pale and sickly.. So far from the Duo he had once known.

As for Duo, he felt uneasy, to say the least. He could feel Heero's eyes boring into him, and he knew.. just _knew_ that the Japanese man was looking at him in such a way because he was disgusted at the fat, the flaws, the imperfections. He didn't know what to say for the moment, so he did the only thing he could think of. He fled. Running, feet barely stopping to rest on the steps as he climbed higher and higher, finally stopping when he came to the bathroom on the third floor.

Close the door, click the lock, put on the faucets.. can't bother with brushing the teeth, not enough time, panic, fear, frustration, got to get it out!

Sticking two fingers down his throat, Duo threw up the ice cream, the cookies, the pasta, the brownies. He threw up the guilt, the sadness, the humiliation, the anger, threw up until the pleasant numbness swept through his body, calming his soul.

It was then that he noticed the pounding on the door.

_Oh, shit._


	6. I'm Not Barbaric, I Just Care

**Chapter Five:** I'm not barbaric, I just care

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "Drug Drug Drugee." by the Manic Street Preachers.

IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;

Notes: Thank you all so much for the reviews.. I'm really, really, really grateful that no one has flamed [yet], and that no one's even said anything negative about the stuff I'm writing about. Thank you for that.. I'm trying to make things a bit vague at this point so there isn't too much trigger content, but.. I guess it all can't really be avoided.

Note to ShinigamiPhoenix: You have no idea how happy your reviews made me!! Seriously, you're one of my favorite GW writers, and the way you write angst is just.. heart wrenching. Like when I read Jittery, my heart literally hurts and I can feel my skin crawling like Duo's, it's just so _real_. So wow, your reviews made my entire month! Heh. This chapter's for you, for inspiring me to get off my ass and write again. ; Oh yeah, and I do promise that there won't be any character death, majorly angsty ending, lol. At the very least, it will be hopeful.

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He didn't know what was going on, and this was what scared him the most. This whole night had been so confusing for the Japanese pilot.. From being awaken by Duo's clumsy footsteps on the stairs, from staring in horror as his friend ate, screamed, cried, ran, vomited. He didn't know what to do, or what to think.. Old coping skills flying back, he went into Perfect Soldier mode. Face blank, eyes glaring and focused, fist clenched and pounding on old wood, ears trained on each little noise. The sobbing, gagging, murmured half-sentences that sounded vaguely like prayers. Then finally… silence.

Bringing his fist down, Heero quickly made up his mind and placed a few good kicks right in the center of the door, breaking it quickly. The wood splintered, raining over his stony face and body as he strode into the bathroom, taking in the scene before him.

Duo lay sprawled on the ground in front of the porcelain bowl, pressing his body against the pristine white of the tiles below him. Heero shuddered involuntarily as he realized just how close a shade Duo's flesh was to the color of the toilet and floor. His friend's eyes were closed, but as Heero slowly made his way closer, two bloodshot orbs, more red now than purple, opened to gaze sadly at something Heero could not see.

"…Duo?" It was a question, a demand, and an expression of care all wrapped up into one word. One name. Upon receiving no answer, Heero drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly to calm his frazzled nerves. He tried again, using the old, familiar technique of interrogation. "You will tell me right now what just happened."

This drew a response, though not the one he had hoped for. Duo giggled. Actually _giggled_. A sound Heero had been hearing far too seldom recently, but still the situation did not call for such expressions of mirth. He was beginning to wonder if maybe the American was high, or otherwise inebriated. What he didn't realize was that Duo was in fact "high". High on his body's reactions, the chemicals released during the act of purging.. High from the feeling of utter ecstasy that comes only when you fool your body of natural instincts, reverse the normal process of digestion.

Glancing at the ceiling warily, Heero muttered a few choice words before once again placing his arms around his friend's waist, propping his too-thin frame over his shoulder, and carrying him to their shared bedroom.

Lying him gently on his worn mattress, realizing with a start that Duo was out cold, Heero once again retreated into Perfect Soldier mode, checking for signs of injury or sickness. Then, finding none, moving on to pulse (erratic), eyes (dilated and bloodshot), and breathing (labored). It all confused Heero very much. Feeling guilty, as though he was taking advantage of his friend's unconscious state, the ex-pilot glanced further down the frail body, his eyes coming to rest on an abnormally swollen stomach, distended, on a too-thin frame. On a whim, Heero pressed a finger into the top of Duo's arm, leaving a definite print when he took it away. He did the same on Duo's ankle, leaving the same impression in the skin. _Edema_, Heero thought to himself, frowning.[1] Duo was dehydrated, all the signs were there… but from _what_? This is what he couldn't figure out, and he knew he would not have the answers until his friend woke up.

It was no secret that Heero Yuy was not good when it came to emotions, things involving the psyche. So it was no wonder that he didn't notice the faint white lines on Duo's wrists when he took the pulse, scars – healed now – crisscrossing every which way, nor the look of despair in his friend's eyes right before he passed out in the bathroom. Too focused was he on the physical problems, the exterior.. concentrating on the result, but not the cause.

A sudden movement from the bed caught Heero's attention, and he quickly lay a gentle hand on Duo's shoulder, pushing the American, who was trying to sit up, back down on the mattress.

"H-Heero?" The voice was hoarse and scratchy, and quickly the Japanese walked into the adjoining bathroom and came back with a tall glass of water, which Duo accepted graciously, gulping down the contents within seconds.

"Shh.. You're dehydrated," he stated simply, when Duo once again opened his mouth to speak.

After a few moments, Duo feebly tried to sit up again, and a sick feeling took over him, dread twisting in his stomach. "What happened?"

Heero fixed his friend with a hard glare, crossing his arms across his chest. "You tell me. You passed out in the bathroom. Care to explain?"

Duo gulped, the feeling of utter dread and panic expanding to fill his entire body. When he didn't continue, Heero elaborated on his findings. "Your skin is pale, stomach distended…" Duo cringed at this comment, immediately thinking, _fat_. "…Eyes bloodshot, pulse erratic. You're obviously dehydrated, and have been vomiting." Voice softening, he forced himself to ask gently, "Why didn't you tell anyone that you haven't been feeling well?"

Duo bristled at that last remark. Hadn't been feeling well? He had not been "feeling well" for over two years now, and _now_ he chooses to notice? Now, only when the problems had escalated to a physical level?

Muttering darkly, Duo simply stated, "I guess I just didn't want to worry anyone," not even bothering to feel grateful that his secret was still safe.

Heero nodded slightly, eating up the lie, not noticing _– _or not wanting to notice – the anger flaring in his friend's eyes, nor the bitterness creeping into his tone. "There is a flu bug going around. You should be fine in a few days."

At this, Duo had to physically restrain himself from jumping up and attacking the man before him. He had no idea. And the simple statement had been enough to strengthen Duo's resolve, reassure him that he was doing the right thing, that his actions, his visits to the websites, were justified, if not downright necessary. They, the "ana's", truly were the only ones who understood. Who even bothered to listen to him when he cried, yelled, hid, complained, spoke.

"…Duo?" Feeling uneasy at his friend's abnormally quiet and dark demeanor, Heero moved closer, sitting beside Duo on the bed. Truth be told, he was worried that perhaps it was more than just a simple case of influenza, but he was doing his damnedest not to show it, not let his concern be revealed. He was sure he was just being ridiculous. Reading too much into things, looking for a problem that did not exist.

"I'm fine, Heero." Sighing, Duo sank further into his bed, curling into himself and wrapping the blankets tightly around his body. He honestly was feeling rather sick right now, and the fact that he had actually fainted scared him a bit. He just wanted to sleep. Just forget that this whole night – this whole _year_ – had ever happened.

Nodding, the Japanese man let his concerns drift away. He stood as he realized that Duo was attempting to get some rest, and he walked across the room to shut out the light. At the same time, shutting off the dim light of reality in his mind.

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End notes: I was originally planning on making this chapter much longer, but I thought that that last line was a perfect place to end, so I decided to end here for now. Just a warning: In the next chapter, the SI [cutting] is going to come into play, so if you're uncomfortable with that, now may be a good time to stop reading.

[1] For those that don't know, edema is water weight. Very common in people who have been purging. One way to tell if a person is retaining water is by checking their arms and ankles to see if they're swollen.. That's why Heero did what he did. ;


	7. Your Beautiful Triangle of Distortion

**Chapter Six:** Your beautiful triangle of distortion

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, nope, only the plot. The chapter title is from a song by the best band in the entire world, the Manic Street Preachers.

IMPORTANT: Please see last chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;

Notes: /tear/ You guys are so the best! Your reviews are so wonderful, and I'm really glad that people seem to be enjoying the story so far. This chapter is for ShinigamiPhoenix and Dragen Eyes, whose speedy updates inspired me to kick the dreaded writers block. Ok, this chapter was majorly hard to write, that's why it took so long. I couldn't bring myself to add in the cutting just yet.. For a lot of reasons, it's just hard. I tried, but I got so blocked, I eventually just took that section out because it didn't fit, and it wasn't right. Too fake, too forced. And SI is just too real, I couldn't let myself keep that part I'd written because it didn't at all portray what it's _really_ like. I was even thinking about cutting the whole SI thing altogether [no pun intended, haha], but then I wouldn't be getting my point across, and the whole damn reason I started writing this in the first place was BECAUSE of the SI, because… Well, because of things that will be revealed later. I had things to say, because I wanted to make my opinions known. So I swear, soon – very soon – I'll get to it. I will. Really. I can and will do it. /repeats it to self/

Dedication: I was going to dedicate this chapter to my girlfriend, Melissa. But that went to hell. She's no longer my girlfriend, we're probably not even friends. So I think I'm going to dedicate this to the awesome, wonderful Kada, who I'm sure will get a big kick out of the fact that I've dedicated a chapter of an anime story to her. ; /love to Kada/

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The bright light of the sun gleaming in through the open window was the first thing Duo's eyes settled on when they opened the next morning. His head was pounding, his throat sore, his stomach aching, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest, though from what he couldn't say. In the bed on the other side of the room, he could tell that Heero was also starting to wake.

Shifting slightly, the Japanese pilot opened his eyes, then closed them again swiftly, squinting and turning his head away from the harsh reflection of sunlight in the mirror. Then, remembering the events of the previous night, sitting up straight, facing Duo, fixing him with a worried stare. "Are you feeling better this morning?" he asked, taking care to see that his voice came out in a perfect monotone, devoid of emotion.

Duo simply shrugged, looking away from Heero's intense gaze. Sighing inaudibly, Heero got up and made his way over to Duo's side of the room, feeling his forehead for fever, checking his throat for swollen glands.

"Hn. No fever." Upon receiving no response from his friend, Heero barely repressed a sigh, and grabbed Duo by the shoulders, forcing him to stand.

"Heero, what the hell are you doing?"

"You're still dehydrated.. Come drink something."

Duo sighed, but followed Heero into the bathroom nonetheless. After gulping down two large glasses of water, the American stalked out of the room and down the stairs, not even bothering to cover up his anger and humiliation over the previous night's events.

Once in the kitchen, Duo started depositing the boxes and wrappers from the night before, and as he did so, his stomach twisted painfully. There was something inside him, some unnamed emotion causing his body to tense, and his eyes to burn sharply with unshed tears. He could feel his breathing becoming more rapid, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He could not put a name to these troublesome emotions, and because of this, he had no idea how to rid himself of them.

_I run, I hide, but I never lie._

Lately, the familiar phrase had begun to take on a new meaning for Duo. When the screaming in his head started, drowning out the small voice of reason still left inside his battered soul, what else could he do _but_ run? And so he did. Both literally and metaphorically.

Looking around the kitchen, the American made sure no one was around before he snuck around to the side door and silently stepped outside.

The grass was springy below his feet, the early morning springtime dew making his trek slippery. He paid this no mind, as he gradually increased his pace, running now, faster, faster, faster. Trying to outrun the things that were eating him up inside, desperate to achieve a level of physical exhaustion that would override the emotional. His harsh breaths and pounding heart drowning out the scolding of the demons in his mind.

Two hours later, Duo slowed his pace as he rounded the corner to Quatre's estate. He knew that there would be a large mess waiting for him inside, and he wanted to prolong the inevitable conversation as long as he possibly could. His heart was now beating dangerously fast, and he could not seem to draw in enough breath as he finally pushed open the kitchen door with a weak hand. He was both surprised and relieved when the door pulled open at the same moment he pushed on it, and he gratefully fell onto the hard body before him. Not knowing whose arms he lay in, and not caring.

A quick intake of breath, and he was dragged further into the dark room. Duo gasped at the sudden change in lighting – the artificial bulbs a stark contrast to the bright glow of the sun – and he once again felt his head swimming, his body lurching alarmingly.

"Heero!"

The scared shriek seemed an explosion of noise to Duo's ears, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the warm body for support, again uncaring, for once unashamed of his physical weakness.

Footsteps pounding on the stairs, two sets of voices conversing rapidly. He could only make out a few words: "Dehydrated…passed out…Sally…hospital."

This last one caught Duo's attention, and he struggled against the firm arms clutched tightly around his back and midsection, holding him upright. Eyes adjusting to the indoor lights, he pushed weakly against the warmth of his friend's body – Quatre's, he realized – and found his footing, able now to draw in oxygen, to stand on his own.

"I'm fine," Duo protested, not allowing the chance for his friends to question as to what just happened.

"Bullshit!" Quatre screamed, and both Duo and Heero jumped back in shock, flinching visibly. This was bad, Duo realized, if the Arabian was worked up enough to shout like this, to show signs of barely repressed angry concern. "Heero told me that you fainted last night, that you threw up, that you're dehydrated. And now I see you are barely able to stand on your own, I can feel every notch in your _back_, Duo, you can hardly breathe, and you say that you're _fine_?!"

He'd stopped hearing at the words "I can feel every notch in your back". Barely managing to bite back a smile, Duo was overwhelmed with a strange sense of pride. Never mind the fact that his friends were on the verge of discovering his most hidden secret, or the signs of severe physical illness pointed out to him. "I can feel every notch in your back." He was getting somewhere. It was working.

Fighting the warning signals going off in his mind, the voice of "pro" singing out, _Don't say anything, cover your tracks, don't ask the question!_, Duo breathed, "Do you mean it?"

At this, Quatre's face took on a look of confusion, and Heero, having a sinking feeling what Duo was referring to, began running his hand down the length of Duo's spine, disguising the bone count as a gesture of comfort and support.

"Mean what?" the Arabian asked slowly. "That you're not okay?"

Gulping, Duo shook his head, and glanced down at the white, immaculate tilling of the kitchen floor. A sudden wave of self-consciousness overwhelming him, Duo pulled away from Heero, moving a few steps closer to the door – his escape.

"What then?" Quatre asked, refusing to let the question drop. Having a feeling that it was somehow important.

"That I'm thin," Duo managed to squeak out, wanting – _needing_ – to know the answer to this most vital question.

A shocked silence filled the room, and Heero, noticing Duo's gradual retreat towards the doorway, grabbed him harshly by the arm and hauled the American back into the kitchen.

The following silence was deafening. Duo could hear the ticking of the second hand of the clock on the nearby wall, as he counted by fours to calm his frazzled nerves. Twenty-two ticks went by before someone spoke. And even then, it was in the softest – but most dangerous – of tones.

"Yes." The answer was simple, the tone clipped, cold, emotionless. Like Heero himself. "Very much so. It matters why?"

"Oh," Duo stammered, once again attempting to back away, "It.. It doesn't, I was just… wondering. That's all. Because…" _Should've listened to me. I told you, but you never listen, do you? Baka. Baka baka baka_. "…Because, I've noticed it too. And, well, I don't think it looks too good, you know? Miss those muscles, heh heh." _Please let them buy it_, Duo thought desperately.

A look of great relief washed over Quatre's face, a small smile stretching across his angelic features. Beside him, the American could see that Heero still looked skeptical, but he too began to look more relaxed as the seconds went by.

The question had shocked everyone into forgetting about the original predicament, the reason as to why they were all standing in the kitchen with a small, sickly looking Duo, a shadow of his former vibrant self. Until he turned towards the doorway once more. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and the American drew back reflexively.

"That is why you were running then. Why you got sick?"

Quatre looked to Heero in surprise, and the faintest blush rose to stain the Japanese man's cheeks. Shrugging, he looked away and said, "I saw him out the window."

The lie – his salvation – forming in his mind, Duo nodded eagerly. "Yes! I haven't been feeling well lately," _Look down, act ashamed_, "and I guess I shouldn't have tried to hide it. But I figured it was just a passing thing, you know? Just a flu. And it is, I'm sure. I'm feeling better already! But…" _and here is where a lifetime of lies, masks, hiding, and acting comes in handy_, "I just…"

Duo stopped, crocodile tears forming in his amethyst eyes, "Look at me!" he yelled, allowing the tears to splash down his hollow cheeks. "I don't like the way I look anymore, and I'm trying to get back into shape. I guess I just overdid it this morning… I'm sorry. It won't happen again, _believe me_, it's _not_ worth it." A soft chuckle, really a disguised sob, because the realization hit that his words were not much lies after all.

He could see the tension and remaining suspicion drawing out of his friends' postures and expressions, and Duo breathed a silent sigh of relief, thanking Shinigami that they bought his tale.

"Make sure that it doesn't, Duo" Quatre admonished lightly. Then, his demeanor changing, he reached out and pulled the frail ex-pilot into a desperate embrace. "I was so worried, I thought… Well, I didn't know _what_ to think," he said, unwilling to admit – even to himself – what he really had suspected.

To his right, Duo could see Heero's eyes darken, though from what he could not tell. His expression was unreadable as ever, and that not knowing what was going through his friend's head, perhaps, was what scared Duo the most.

"I promise, Q-Man, from now on I'll be more careful. It's not that important what I look like anyway," he swore, the enormity of the lie weighing on Duo's conscience and heart. Shoving the guilt down inside himself, to be dealt with at a later date, letting the one remaining tear drip lazily down his chin. A sniffle, a hand wiping innocently and childlike across the eyes filled with lies and deceits.

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A/N: Blegh. Feel free to tell me how much you hate it. :/

Another A/N: OH, I got it! I just thought of it, I know what to do with the SI. Heh, it'll probably come into play within the next two chapters. [yay for proof reading!]


	8. Heroin is Just too Trendy

**Chapter Seven:** Heroin is Just too Trendy

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from "Roses in the Hospital" by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: I probably should have mentioned this before, but I keep forgetting. In the summary, I'm sure a lot of you noticed, I added "future lemon". Well I just want to say that it is not at _all_ what you're probably thinking and expecting. It's not squick or NCS, but still it is not in any way what most lemon scenes are like. Don't want to give anything away, but you shall see what I mean. Soon enough. ;P

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;

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Duo's eyes were glued to the clock throughout the entire meal as he counted each excruciating minute, watching the second hand tick slowly by. Seconds went by like lifetimes, each moment he spent at the table under the scrutiny of he two closest friends more agonizing than the next.

It had been three weeks now since the disastrous confrontation in the kitchen, when Duo had almost been caught, and since then, Heero and Quatre had been watching him like a hawk, each of them having their own suspicions and reasons for concern.

Quatre, now fully convinced that Duo's illness was not self-inflicted, nor was it any more than a simple cold or flu, began to worry less and less, his watchful eye at mealtimes and after now more out of habit than necessity.

Heero, however, was not as positive as his friend was that Duo's odd behavior was a result of a physical sickness. If it was the flu, wouldn't it have passed by now? If the weight loss was caused by a cold, wouldn't he have gained some back? It seemed to Heero that the American was only losing, his body shrinking as the weeks went by, much the same way as the man shrunk into himself. It could be his imagination, Heero rationalized to himself. After all, Quatre was sure now that Duo's emotional state was a healthy one, and Heero figured he would be able to tell more than anyone, what with his space heart and the impressive ability to read people, see behind even the thickest of masks. But still, there was a doubt. When he looked into Duo's eyes – the light that used to sparkle and dance in them growing dimmer by the day – he knew that there was something different. Heero could not tell what he difference was, all he knew was that it as _there_, and had been for months now.

A slight noise caught Heero's attention, and he was pulled out of his reverie by Duo, now sliding out of his chair slowly, wood grating against porcelain tiles, trying hard to hide his weakness and the fact that he felt like his legs would give out any minute now.

It had been going on like this for such a long time now, Duo was beginning to wonder if his "friends" were ever going to give up. A small part of him was happy and so fucking _relieved_ that someone at last had noticed his pain, no matter how well concealed. But another, larger, part of him was growing angrier and angrier by the day, his emotional state diminishing as quickly as his physical.

A slight clearing of the throat, the sort that is meant to call a person to attention, reached Duo's ears, and he turned around to casually glance at Heero, who was beginning to clear the table.

"What is it, Heero?" Duo asked, exasperated. It was the same damn thing every day. Like some horribly written script, the pilots were acting out the macabre scenes, the same lines day after day, each man knowing and anticipating each word, gesture, emotion, and action from having rehearsed it so long.

"What are you going to do now?" Heero finally asked. It was an unspoken agreement that Duo was not allowed to enter a bathroom directly after eating a mean. Quatre afraid that the scenery in the bathroom would bring up unpleasant memories of being sick, and therefore triggering Duo, his mind tricked into becoming ill. Heero's thoughts on the situation were very similar, with only one major difference: The becoming sick was not his brain's unconscious response.

Rolling his eyes just slightly, Duo gave the same answer as always – the next line of the play. "I'm going to my room, Heero. Do you have a problem with that?" he asked, barely managing to conceal his anger and frustration.

And the song and dance began. Heero watching Duo exit the room, racing up to his bedroom to do God knows what, Quatre and the others exchanging looks of concern, each man debating whether or not they should go after their diminishing friend. Always the same. Word for word. And yet nobody had enough nerve to attempt a rewrite.

Meanwhile, Duo was holed up in his room, sitting in his cramped and dark closet. He felt at his most safe there, though it was small and uncomfortable, and it was the only place he ever let his mask fall completely. This afternoon, his stomach clung to the food in his stomach, eager to satisfy its ravenous hunger, to absorb the nutrients while it still had a chance. In turn, Duo curled up in a fetal position in the darkest part of the closet. He imagined that it must be like what a pregnant woman's contractions felt like – the throbbing and tightening of stomach muscles, so painful that it almost brought tears to his eyes.

When had this stopped being fun? When did starvation become something he feared and dreaded, as opposed to something he looked forward to eagerly, with as much excitement as a child running down the stairs on Christmas morning? At which point did the control slip from his grip, already precarious, going instead to his best friend and worst enemy? Ana.

When Duo looked into mirror, he imaged that he could see her inside himself. The hollow eyes was where the goddess/demon lurked, distorting and skewing Duo's perception of himself and of the world in general. He could imagine a blonde woman with beautiful, silky flowing hair whipping around a fragile face, mouth curving upwards in the friendliest of smiles. She continues to smile, reaching out a hand and saying, "It's ok. Come to me, and I can help you. I can give you what you've been missing your whole life – love, friendship, understanding. Stick with me, and you'll have whatever you please." And Duo imagined himself reaching for the outstretched hand, but as he did so, Ana would grab a hold of his arm, now no longer gentle and fragile, but a skeleton cloaked and hidden by a giant black hood, the face underneath a skull with hollow eyes. The same as Duo's own. He could almost hear her shouting out, "I've got your now!" and then laughing, an evil cackle. And he wished sometimes that he had never started in the first place. She was his goddess and his grim reaper. She was his best friend and his worst enemy. She was what kept him going, and what would eventually kill him. It was ironic, and Duo almost had to laugh at these thoughts.

There were, however, those moments that were still good. The elation he felt after lying himself out of eating a meal, and the ecstasy that overwhelmed him when he beat "the system" and found a way to throw up, unnoticed. It was these feelings that he lived for, and for this reason, Duo would not give up his ana. No matter how he felt, what he said, what his friends said, what he did, what his friends did. It would be worth it in the end. Pretty soon he would not need his friend anymore. As soon as he reached his goal weight – now lowered to 120[1] after a period of losing and surpassing his first goal – he would stop. As he thought this, he looked into the mirror, focusing on the dead-looking eyes with a sense of determination and defiance. He could stop if he wanted to. Of course he could, and he promised himself right then and there that the moment he reached 120 lbs., he would give up the ana for good.

---2 Weeks Later---

Heero smiled approvingly as he watched Duo climb into bed at the end of the day. He remembered a time not so long ago when he had seen Duo in his nightshirt, and had been horrified at his sickly looking appearance. But now, running his eyes down his friend's body carefully, he almost had to smile. He looked almost normal again, having gained back a few much needed pounds, his face no longer looking quite so gray.

But… There was still the fear lurking in the back of his mind. The stomach no longer curved inwards, the beginnings of a ledge beneath the ribcage, and the back no longer sported knobs poking out from the lack of muscle between flesh and spine. But Heero could not help but notice the dead look in Duo's eyes that seemingly increased over the course of the past two weeks. Could not overlook the fact that Duo only seemed to be growing more and more depressed and withdrawn as the days went slowly by.

From across the room, Duo could feel Heero's eyes on him, and he shrunk back reflexively, pulling the covers over his body self-consciously. They had all been staring lately. Every last one of his friends had just been _staring_ at him ever since the forced eating had begun. Duo had never felt more insecure in his life, never felt fatter, uglier, fatter, like such a horrible _fat_ failure. Duo absolutely hated his friends for this. He was no longer able to get out of eating, and lately Heero had been glued to his side after mealtimes, so he no chance to purge, or even exercise. He'd gained weight – of course he had. He felt so vulnerable now, so used, felt as though the other pilots had invaded and controlled every single aspect of his life. They had taken away his secret diet, his private mission, his wonderful ecstasy and weight loss. He had no secrets anymore.

Except for one.

In the past, Duo had rid himself of the bad feelings inside of himself through his diet and eating habits. Starving the depression away, throwing up the fear and the guilt and the pain, running from the anger and overall feeling of helplessness. Now that his secret weapon of dealing with the world had been taken away, he'd gone back to the method of coping he had used during the war days.

It had never been excessive. Never a craving, a want, a need, an obsession, an addiction. Up until recently, he'd only used it as a way to cope with the guilt, a way to right the wrongs he had committed during battles. He killed an innocent, he gave himself a small cut on the arm. He bombed a town, he earned two long slashes on the thigh. The day the last battle had been fought, he swore on everything that he believed in that he would put down the razor, never to pick it up again. At that point, he felt no more need to punish himself. The self-inflicted torture had stopped once the torture of Ozzies and innocents stopped.

But now, he felt that the punishment was needed once again. For becoming weak, for being a fat, lazy slob, for letting his friends push him around, for losing control of himself and his life so completely. With the old coping mechanism gone, he turned again to his razor – the only friend he had known during the war. Now, instead of starving and purging himself of the pain, he let it run free from his body through his blood, the steady flow of crimson the tears he could not shed, his scars the words he could not bring his mouth to say.

It was now, as he watched the smallest hint of a smile play across Heero's lips from across the room, that he again felt the incredible urge, the itching in his skin and the burning in his heart, the absolute _need_ to do it _right now_.

Standing quickly, Duo flashed a wide grin at his friend and all but ran into the nearest bathroom, his entire body trembling from the incredible need.

Pull the razor out of the pocket, deep breath, not too hard, not too deep – he's in the other room, you can't stay in here too long. Drag it across mutilated flesh, adding yet another to the dozens of small white lines, small pink lines, small red lines, all forming one trail of misery down the arm. Shaky scarlet beads welling up, press a little deeper. Quickening now, a river instead of droplets. Drop the razor now, sigh of relief – the urge is gone. The need fulfilled. The junkie got his fix.

Breathing deeply and pressing a hand to his still racing heart, Duo finally opened his eyes to inspect the damage done. The blood was flowing quickly, but he knew from experience that the cuts were more wide than deep. No need for stitches, not this time. Eventually, Duo let the sense of peace and numbness sweep over his entire body and he once again closed his eyes, giving into the darkness that threatened to overtake him. The blood still seeping out of the wounds, staining the pristine white of his nightshirt, staining and tainting the purity of his soul.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

**End notes**: Amazingly.. I'm actually _sort of_ happy with the way this chapter came out. The ending was a little hard, which is why the sentences are sort of… disconnected? disjointed? Something. Eh, I'll call it a style. ; Anyway, I'm happy with the beginning and middle, which is weird, since I usually despise everything I write. -shuts up and stares at the pig that has suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight-

[1] In this story, Duo's height is 5'8, and the normal weight range for males of that height is 139 - 169 lbs. So he's not exactly emaciated yet, just suspiciously skinny. Just underweight enough for people to take notice.


	9. Your Joys are Counterfeit

**Chapter Eight:** Your Joys are Counterfeit

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: Wow, so sorry for the long wait! I've had major writers block, plus I've been busy beta-ing two stories and applying to colleges _and_ looking for a job. -sweatdrop- Been extremely busy. Oh, and Selene, you were asking about the timeline a while back, and I completely forgot to answer. In the first chapter I said six months previously, but I decided to change it to a year, maybe even more, before the prologue.

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it. ;]

* * *

Duo awoke the next morning to the gentle prodding of his shoulder. Eyes opening slowly, blinking as his vision adjusted to the fluorescent light, he took in his surroundings. Suddenly, as the fog of sleep cleared from his mind and images of the night before came forth, Duo realized with a start that he had fallen asleep on the bathroom floor… While cutting. Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, he glanced up to find Heero staring down at him, eyes boring into Duo's own, asking wordless questions, making silent accusations. 

_Shit_, he thought. Silently berating himself for being so careless, Duo casually checked his arms, relieved to find that, in his sleep, he had pulled a bath towel over his body, and because of this his bloodied clothes were hidden from view. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Duo's mind raced, buzzing with lies, excuses, and denials.

Battle plan forming slowly in his mind, Duo stretched his covered arms above his head, yawning loudly, then looking back at Heero with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"'Morning, Hee-Chan! Man, I must've been _really_ out of it last night, huh? God, of all the places to fall asleep…" He looked around the bathroom in mock-disgust, wrinkling his nose as he pulled himself to his feet and stretched again, taking care to discreetly hide his left, stained sleeve under the security of the towel as he reached above his head.

"What time is it anyway? Man, I'm starved! Are you going to cook for me this morning, huh Hee-Chan?"

As Duo knew it would, the mentioning of food took Heero slightly by surprise, and instead of questioning Duo as to what he was doing sleeping on the bathroom floor, he merely shrugged his shoulders, attempting indifference.

"Hn. What would you like."

"Hm… How about toast!" Balking slightly at the glare he received, Duo continued quickly, "with eggs."

Nodding curtly, Heero quickly walked out of the room, agitated and, though he wouldn't admit it, frightened. He had walked into the bathroom that morning, intending to take a quick shower before breakfast, and had been shocked to find Duo curled up in the corner by the sink. _So innocent, so beautiful…_ Blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he tried desperately to rid the images of a peacefully sleeping Duo from his mind.

Lately, the American had been invading his thoughts more and more, and Heero found that he was beginning to genuinely care for Duo's well-being – something that scared him far more than any battle ever had. Though the war had ended well over a year ago, emotions were still a foreign thing to Heero, and though he felt them, he could not distinguish between them, and most of the time, was not even consciously aware of their presence. There were the physical signs: The tightening of stomach muscles and the rapid heartbeat when he had found Duo passed out months ago; the warmth that spread through his chest last night as he gazed upon his friend looking healthier than he had in weeks; the slight twitch of the facial muscles when he discovered Duo asleep just minutes ago. These things he recognized, but he could not match a word – joy, happiness, contentment, fear – to the sensations. He knew, though, that Duo affected him far more than any thing or person ever had, and this frightened him to the core.

Shaking his head once again, Heero made a resolution that he would rid himself of these unwanted feelings, and as quickly as possible. He had no room in his life for such things, no room for the complications brought on by care, concern, worry, love. Eyes widening slightly at the last word, Heero mentally shook himself, as he quickened his pace to the kitchen. Once there, he hurriedly prepared the breakfast Duo had asked for, and proceeded to call the man down for the meal.

Walking into the kitchen, Duo sighed quietly and prepared himself for another force-feeding, and was greatly – albeit happily – surprised when Heero simply walked away after placing the full plate in front of him.

"Not gonna keep me company this morning?" Duo joked, then immediately bit his tongue, swearing silently to himself.

"Hn."

For the second time that morning Duo was shocked, and just a bit hurt, when Heero made no move to elaborate, instead walking out of the room.

Duo gave himself five minutes – exactly 300 seconds, as he counted by the ticking of the clock – before pushing the kitchen chair back, its wood scraping against the floor, and quickly dumping the entirety of his breakfast into the trash.

For the first time in months, Duo found a real, genuine smile gracing his face. The expression held, even as he practically skipped up the stairs and into his room, grabbing his sneakers from underneath his bed.

Heero, who was busily typing on his laptop, barely glanced up as Duo entered the room, though he was acutely aware of his presence. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Duo pulling on his running shoes, but he pushed the fear aside, assuring himself that Duo was a smart boy, and knew what he was doing, knew not to push the limits and make himself ill.

Duo felt just the slightest bit hurt as he finished dressing and walked downstairs, and out through the kitchen door. He had hated the past few months, when Quatre and Heero had not let him out of their site for more than a few minutes at a time, but somehow, this was even worse. The knowledge that Heero, at least, didn't care anymore, didn't see through his mask (or didn't want to), couldn't see that he was still in so much pain.

As he picked up his pace, breaking into a slow jog, Duo quickly blinked back the few tears forming behind his eyelids, and yanked up his sleeve, giving himself a few quick scratches with his fingernails, opening up the wounds he inflicted upon himself the night before. The feel of the blood once again beginning to well up and drip lazily down his arm comforted Duo. There was still this one thing that made him feel better. Better about himself, the treatment he had received from Heero this morning, and the world in general. There was still this. This, and the diet, which he swore he would resume once he was sure that the others were off his back once and for all.

. . . . . . . . .

It was a little after 6:00 in the morning when Duo pushed open the main door to the estate, newspaper in hand. Slightly out of breath, he walked into the kitchen and flopped down into the first chair he saw, placing the newspaper on the table in front of him.

Hearing a quiet giggle to his right, Duo jumped, startled to find that he wasn't alone, and turned around to find Quatre sitting on Trowa's lap, arms thrown around the other's neck. He nearly gagged at the sight.

In the past three weeks, both Quatre and Heero had taken to ignoring him once again, overlooking the fact that he had gone right back to his old pattern of behaviors, the ones which his "friends" had protested so strongly against only one month before. Quatre caught up in his growing relationship with Trowa, and Heero simply uncaring, as far as Duo could tell.

Shoving away from the table angrily, Duo stormed out of the room, and soon enough was followed by a concerned looking Quatre. Glancing back, Duo realized that Trowa was leaning against the doorframe, apparently not wanting to involve himself in the argument he was sure was coming.

"Duo?" Quatre asked tentatively, sitting beside his friend on the overstuffed sofa. "Are you all right?" Placing a hand on his shoulder, only to have it thrown off by a still-angry Duo.

"Just fine," he threw back in a tone that implied he was anything but.

Quatre remained silent, giving Duo the chance to continue on his own. When he didn't, the Arabian finally said, "Duo, if there's anything wrong you know you can always come to us… right? We're always there for you, no matter what." He took a chance and again placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

Duo glared at the hand before looking Quatre in the eye, intending to start on a rant about his friends were _never_ "there for" him anymore, but one look at the sincere expression on Quatre's face ended the argument before it had even begun. He merely sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he was alone now, and that perhaps it was for the best.

Plastering a smile on his face, Duo nodded. "I know Quat, thanks. I'm just tired, that's all." Without even giving his friend a chance to respond, Duo quickly stood and fled from the room, the familiar phrase once again coming to mind. _I run, I hide, but I never lie._ Except that his whole life, personality, and mannerisms were one huge lie, every word he spoke a denial or an excuse. Hiding and running from the truth that even he himself couldn't see.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Duo looked around the room he now found himself in. White tiled walls, mirror reflecting the picture of a man with desperate, violet eyes, overflowing with pain, hurt, anger, need. Shoulders tense, arms shaking violently by his sides, breath quickening as the moments passed, face flushed, and beads of sweat forming on the too-pale forehead. The mirror had seen the picture many times over the past month, and the man behind the reflection knew all too well what was coming next. When he got like this, it was inevitable.

His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely control them enough to reach into the front pocket of his jeans, and when he did, had trouble grasping the cool and familiar piece of metal he found there.

His breath was coming in short gasps as he hastily grabbed the end of his long-sleeved shirt and yanked it up to his elbow.

_Calm down_, he told himself, _Calm down, don't do it yet, deep breath_. Listening to the words, Duo sucked in a shaky breath, letting it fill his lungs before slowly exhaling. If he didn't do this, he knew, the results would be terrible, and something he could not handle by himself.

He grasped the metal, his razor, tightly in his clammy hand before sinking it into his flesh and dragging it harshly down the length of his arm. Once he did this, twice, three times, four, and only then did he feel in enough control to let the weapon fall to the floor. He quickly followed the razor's path, sliding down against the bathroom cabinet, his feet collapsing under the incredible weight he bore upon his shoulders.

Closing his eyes, he once again dragged in a deep breath, before opening them to inspect the damage. Small crimson beads, melding together to form long trails of deep ruby, the blood flowing steadily down his arm and onto the floor beside him. So calming was the scene, and so familiar.

The American nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a hesitant knock on the door.

"Duo?" A small voice called out, and he knew from the tone, quiet and filled with concern, that it was Quatre's.

"J-just a minute!"

Hastily grabbing for the roll of toilet paper, he made a makeshift bandage for himself before pulling down the black sleeve of his shirt and mopping up the stains on the floor. Shoving the mess in his pocket, because he couldn't take the risk of someone finding the bloodied toilet paper in the trashcan.

He felt calm now, the anger from before forgotten as he pulled open the door to face his friend.

"What's up, Q-man?"

"Well, you just seemed a bit upset before, I was wondering if maybe you would like to join me and Trowa for breakfast in the dining room?"

Duo mentally shuddered at the mentioning of breakfast.

"No thanks, I actually ate this morning before you guys were awake. Hey! Did you know your cook could make chocolate chip pancakes?! Man, those things are fucking _awesome_!"

Quatre smiled at his friend, shaking his head before allowing a chuckle to escape his lips. "Well, I'm glad that you enjoyed them. I'll leave you alone then. But, Duo, if you do need anything, please don't be afraid to come to me. Or any of us, for that matter. Ok?"

The American nodded at Quatre's retreating back, at the same time knowing that the offer was made simply out of courtesy, that he would only be ignored – again – if he told any of the pilots how his life had gone so horribly wrong lately.

A low growl emanating from his stomach served to feed into Duo's guilt over the increasing amount of lies that he told daily. Chocolate chip pancakes? He hadn't eaten breakfast in well over a month. The morning Heero had made him eggs and then walked out of the room, and, Duo thought, his life, was the morning that the diet had begun again, taking on a new force and growing into something even bigger than it was before.

He was no longer disillusioned, starving himself under the pretense of trying to become thin. He had realized long ago that this was something so very, very much more. So complicated, so much more than a diet, the layers of hate, guilt, anger, and shame making up what he now knew to be a full-blown eating disorder.

And he never loved it more than when that realization hit.[1]

He couldn't explain it, and he thought himself despicable to be feeling that way, undeniably _proud_ of himself for becoming sick (and he knew that he was), but still, he couldn't deny the fact that the moment he realized what he was, he was happier than he had ever been in possibly his entire life.

He compared it to the way he felt after winning the wars. The feeling of accomplishment, the relief, the thought that _finally_, after all those months of working so hard, pushing and fighting and trying, he had accomplished the goal that had for so long seemed impossible. Like maybe he wasn't so fat, such a loser, such a failure, such a good-for-nothing nobody, if he had the willpower to achieve something like becoming anorexic.

He never had a name. Not a _real_ name, anyway, and that had always depressed him somewhat. He'd never had something official like that, and now, for the first time, he did. A label. A diagnosis. He wasn't nobody…

He was anorexic.

_No_, he corrected,_ not yet_. In his mind, he was not yet there. He still ate, still occasionally binged (he shuddered at the word), still threw up on a regular basis. These losses of control were something that an anorexic would never experience, and he thoroughly hated himself for these weaknesses.[2]

And this was his reasoning for continuing. What Duo didn't realize was that his "honesty" with himself, what he considered to be incredible logic, was nothing more than another unconscious lie he told himself to justify the continuation of his behaviors. If he were truly honest with himself, as he thought he was, he would have seen that he was already thoroughly entrenched in anorexia, and that his decision to continue until he reached what, in his mind, was anorexic, was the same as when he had told himself months ago that he would lose only until he got to a certain number on the scale. Always lowering the number as he reached it, surpassing it again and again. He never thought himself to be "good enough", and a certain part of him knew that he never would. No matter how little he weighed, no matter what the diagnosis or how little he ate.

. . . . . . . . . .

It was one week later when Duo awoke screaming at 1:00 a.m., sheets and body drenched in sweat. Running into the bathroom as fast as his feet would carry him, the American barely had time to close the door before leaning over the toilet and forcing the little he had eaten that day out of his system. Panting, shaking, terrified, he stood up only to find Heero standing, aghast, in the now-open doorway.

Gulping, Duo merely shook his head, signaling that he didn't want to talk about it, walking out of the room and dropping into his bed, repeating in his mind, _It was only a dream, it was only a dream, it was only a dream…_

The American looked up as he felt the bed sink with the weight of another person. A comforting hand running down the length of his back, gently rubbing his bony shoulders, caused him to release the death grip he had taken on his pillow.

Heero nearly flinched as those eyes filled with so much pain searched his own, looking for an explanation for the act of comfort. He knew he had been anything but a friend to Duo lately. He felt bad – and even worse when he felt the bones once again poking through Duo's gray flesh – but the prospect of emotions, the overwhelming feelings of love and concern that washed over him when he saw Duo, had him fleeing from the room every time the American was near.

Shrugging off the feelings of guilt, once again reassuring himself that Duo was smart and knew how to take care of himself, Heero removed the hand and simply stated, "Everyone has nightmares."

_Not like this_, Duo thought to himself, but said nothing, merely nodding as Heero stood and returned to his own bed. Oblivious to the fact that Duo had made _himself_ sick, that it wasn't simply an aftereffect of the dream, undoubtedly similar to his own about wars and killing and the like.

There was a time when Duo would have found paradise in that gentle hand running across his back and shoulders, but tonight, he felt nothing. His stomach did not leap, as it once would have, when Heero touched him, nor did he feel any sense of rejection or sadness when the man retreated. Tonight, all he could think about was the dream. The horrible, consuming nightmare that haunted both his sleeping, and his waking hours.

On more than one occasion, Duo found himself in the same predicament as tonight. Waking from the images of him sitting at the table, eating and eating and eating, consuming everything in sight and more, running to the bathroom to purge, absolutely _positive_ that he had gained some weight from the dream, sure that his mind had somehow been tricked into thinking that he actually had eaten and taken in calories.

Waiting to make sure that Heero was again asleep, Duo slowly got out of bed and crept into the bathroom again, as he always did after the nightmare. Pulling off his shirt, leaving him in only a pair of black silk boxers that hung loosely from his hips, Duo stood in front of the mirror, picking out the many faults that he found in himself.

_1,2, 3… Dammit, can only count three ribs_, he thought, frowning, and then scowling in hatred at his reflection – at himself. He ran his right hand down the length of his body, fingers bumping down the three ribs, following the curve below the ribcage as it ended and his sunken-in stomach began, finally coming to rest atop the too-prominent hipbones, delighted that he could grab and hold onto the knobs. Continuing the inspection, he glanced at his arms in disgust. Angry at the scars that laced up and down, the pink outline of healing cuts where the skin was still tender, not open, but not yet healed; the angry red ones from the cuts made last night; the white, barely visible lines created during the war; the brown of the still-healing scabs from weeks previously.

Sighing, he tore his gaze from the mirror, unable to stand the image it projected any longer. He prayed a little as he walked over to the scale in the corner and stepped on, watching the numbers climb, then sink lower, lower, lower, until it finally came to rest on 113.

Smiling just a little, Duo stepped off and again looked in the mirror, suddenly not so critical, not as appalled at what he saw. 113. The grin widened. He thought back to the first time he weighed himself, so many months ago – was it only 4? – It seemed like an eternity had passed. The scale had read 156.

As quietly as he had entered it, Duo walked out of the bathroom, slipping under the covers on his bed, the danger gone, for now. That night, Duo fell asleep with a smile on his face, as he continued to count numbers, calories, weight, seconds, days, weeks, months, in his mind. The calculation pleased him…

He had lost over 40 pounds in just four months.[3]

* * *

[1.] Don't hate Duo for feeling that way! Seriously, it will be explained later, but he's not "at that point" right now where he understands his feelings and thoughts about the whole thing. 

[2.] Bullshit! Common misconception, one that sort of always pisses me off, lol. Anorexics DO eat [not normally, of course], and binge on occasion, and purge, and lose control. There's not a single anorexic in the world that can fast forever, that _never_ binges. Body always overrides mind. If you want to read a fanfic where ED's are shown accurately, go check out "Anything for the One You Love" by the lovely Dragen Eyez. She mixes bulimia in with the ana, has Duo doing both, and I really love that, because it's the most accurate fic on ED's that I've ever read. -love to Selene-

[3] Originally, that was 30 pounds. But then it was pointed out to me that I had been incredibly lazy in my calculation, and Duo had, according to previous chapters, lost _43_ pounds. Uh.. oops? 40 is stretching reality a bit. But I'd have to go back and change a lot of other things to fix it to be 30, so this was much easier. Sorry 'bout that. :X


	10. Show Me Your Scars, You're So Aware

**Chapter Nine:** Show Me Your Scars, You're So Aware

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: Ok, I know that this chapter is really short, but a lot of things happen here, so I figured the content might make up for the length. Or something. :S Anyway, I just wanted to thank the wonderful Dragen Eyez and ShinigamiPhoenix for being so freaking wonderful and leaving amazing reviews after every chapter! Hehe, you guys are the greatest.

Dedication: [I love these, have you noticed?] To one of my new favorite authors, blood-poisoning, whose talent simply amazes me, and who I'm also starting to suspect might be my clone.. ;]

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it.

* * *

The soft beeping of Duo's alarm clock woke the Japanese man the next morning, as he squinted slightly, lazily glancing at the clock by his bedside. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized that it was only 5:00 in the morning, and he had never known Duo to wake anytime before noon. Hearing a shuffle next to him, the quiet murmurs as the alarm was silenced, Heero closed his eyes again and focused on making his breathing deep, slow, and even.

As he surreptitiously cracked an eyelid open, observing Duo silently pulling on sweatpants and lacing his running shoes, he wondered how long this had been going on without him realizing. Duo then stood, creeping across the room and out the door, and Heero was left questioning just how many things he had been missing about his friend these past few weeks. He had been so focused on ignoring his own feelings, pushing them away, that he hadn't even realized he was, in effect, pushing _Duo_ away. He kicked himself for it now, as his gaze shifted towards the window, gaze focusing on the image of Duo running, desperately, it seemed, down the sidewalk.

Heero allowed himself to sink back into his sheets, promising that he would have a talk with Duo as soon as he returned that morning. Just some questioning, he told himself. Nothing with emotions attached, just a friendly exchange, no more significant than he would have with any stranger he met on the street.

After all, he was sure that he was overreacting, positive that Duo was smart and knew how to take proper care of himself, and it was this thought that calmed him as he was lulled back to sleep by the birds singing softly just outside his window.

It was exactly one hour later when Duo came tiptoeing into the house once again, slipping quietly into the room that he and Heero shared. A low growl emanated from stomach, he pressed a hand to it, mentally willing his body to shut up.

Sighing, he toed off his shoes, allowing himself to flop onto his bed for just a moment as he caught his breath, before rushing into the bathroom to begin the morning routine.

A few seconds later, Heero awoke to the sound of metal grating across hard tile, and he sat up straight, instinctively reaching for the gun still hidden beneath his pillow. Realizing that it was only Duo, he allowed a sigh of relief to pass his lips, before settling down again to listen.

Hearing the commotion going on inside the other room, Heero rose from his bed, rushing towards the mahogany door. Tapping lightly, he began to worry as he was met with only silence, and then a long string of angry curses.

Heart speeding up just slightly, Heero placed a tentative hand on the knob, twisting, genuinely surprised when the door gave no resistance and flew inwards.

Worried, Heero stepped in, then stopped short, cold eyes widening in shock, horrified at the image before him.

Moments previously, Duo had been enraged to find that he had gained half a pound since the night before. Kicking the scale and cursing loudly, momentarily forgetting about the sleeping Heero in the other room, he automatically groped for the blade hidden under the sink, while simultaneously yanking the loose tee-shirt over his head.

He was so caught up in the cutting, so distracted by the blood now trailing down his arms in little rivulets, that he didn't even notice the door opening until Heero stood before him, staring in open-mouthed shock.

The following silence was, to Duo, more painful than the past four months of his life, combined.

There were many emotions and thoughts battling for dominance in Heero's mind at that moment. Fear, disgust, surprise, concern, sympathy, confusion, frustration, but above all, anger. Anger directed mostly at himself for not noticing sooner Duo's apparent depression, ashamed at the fact that he had been so focused on himself and his own emotions, that he had completely ignored Duo's, and therefore allowed his friend to sink as low as he had. Blinking back angry tears, he felt the incredible urge to just reach out and take Duo in his arms, protecting him from the evils of the world, the demons that had been consuming him inside for so long. But, as was his way, Heero forced his face to harden into that familiar, impassive mask, glaring more fiercely than he ever had. Lunging towards Duo before he had the chance to run, he grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully so he could inspect the damage the man had inflicted upon himself.

As Heero yanked the first-aid kit down from the cabinet above the sink, Duo could only stare at his friend, feeling as though he were watching the scene from above. He felt totally removed, did not even flinch as Heero swabbed the wounds with alcohol, and when the Japanese raised angry blue eyes to meet his own, he did not pull back in intimidation, as he would have done months ago. The only emotion he felt at that moment was fear. Fear, not that Heero might be angry or disgusted with him, but rather that his friend would find out about the diet, about the websites.. Terrified that he might be forced to gain back the weight, the _health_, he had come to dread.

Knowing full well that he was projecting his own anger onto Duo, Heero took several deep breaths to calm himself before dropping the now-bandaged arm and simply asking, "Why."

_This is surreal_, Duo thought to himself as he merely looked to Heero with blank, uncaring eyes. The American could do nothing but stare back, a chilling feeling of numbness sweeping through his entire body, so intense that he felt himself shiver as it took hold. And as he stood there, trying to summon up some, any, emotion at all, he wondered if this was how the Perfect Soldier felt all the time. Then suddenly smiling, one thought repeating through his mind like a mantra:

_Perfection. I'm almost there._

* * *

End Notes: I know that's pretty awful, but there's stuff going on at the moment, and I can't bring myself to stare at my computer screen for the next half hour while I proof read and edit and obsess over my writing. Sorry. :X


	11. Will You Accuse Me as I Hide?

**Chapter Ten:** Will You Accuse Me as I Hide?

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: You are reading this chapter only because blood-poisoning threatened me with no more updates of "So Far, So Good" [and therefore this chapter is for her!]. It sucks, I was so stuck, I'm sorry. I have this all planned out, I know exactly where I'm going with it.. it's just getting there that's the hard part. :( Heero's a bit OOC in this chapter, but for a reason. Oh, and to answer your question blood-poisoning, yup, the other pilots are going to have a _huge_ part later on in the story. Please everyone, let me know what you think of this?

Note to Dragen Eyez: I'm so terrible, I'm so, so sorry. I know you've been waiting forever for me to get back to you, I've been such a horrible beta. But it's 5:30 in the morning right now, and I have nothing to do tomorrow [today], so I'm _not_ going to leave this computer until I've finished both your chapter and your friend's.

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it.

* * *

Tell a lie enough times, and you begin to believe it. 

"For the last time, Heero, I'm fucking _fine_!"

"Hn."

Looking away, Heero could only shake his head sadly in reply.

One month ago, a very shaken-up Heero had locked himself and Duo in their room together, not allowing the other man to leave until he confessed about the cutting. Admitted that the long scars, scabs, and faded lines lacing up and down his all-too-pale arms were, indeed, self-inflicted. Four weeks ago, Duo had struggled against the man he now considered his greatest enemy, too weak to resist or push away the gentle embrace he found himself caught in, the strong arms that wrapped around his form unrelenting until his erratic breathing steadied. Twenty-eight days ago, Heero had settled his gaze on the stranger now inhabiting his best friend's body, so horrified at the intentional bloodshed that he hadn't noticed the protruding ribs, the shadows under the lifeless eyes, nor the paleness of the mutilated[1] flesh.

Before Heero lowered his gaze, Duo had noted that the pain lurking in the cobalt depths were a direct reflection of Duo's own. For what seemed like the millionth time that month, the American felt that intense wave of guilt wash through his body, leaving him standing rigid, teeth grinding together, fists clenched firmly at his sides. A posture he found himself in far too often lately.

Heero's intentions were good, even at his lowest point Duo could see that. But, still, that didn't stop the anger from rising. Couldn't he see that he was only hurting Duo? That by following him around, by hiding the razor blades, checking his arms for recent cuts, he was only proving what little trust he had in his friend?

Duo knew that Heero was only trying to help, but that didn't stop him from yelling, from hiding, from rebelling by using Heero's own knives to hurt himself.

The sound of his friend's voice brought Duo out of his reverie, and he looked up to find Heero staring at him expectantly.

"What?" Duo snapped irritably, though he did not know where the bad mood came from.

"I asked if... if you would like to watch a movie with me," Heero blurted out, then quickly averted his gaze.

Duo's eyes widened slightly as he took a moment to process the question. Slowly, his anger began to drain away, and he was left feeling hollow. Anger was the only emotion he allowed himself to feel these days, and once that faded, there was just... nothing.

"No," the American sighed, turning his back on his friend. If the offer had been made months ago, before any of this came into play, Duo would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Heero, to be close to him, to get to know him better. Now, though, all he wanted was to be left alone, the razorblades and hunger his only friends. He liked it that way, needed it to be that way, and he despised Heero for attempting to change that.

"Then what-"

"I'm going to spend some time _alone_," Duo stated firmly, fixing Heero with a death glare of his own.

"But," the Japanese began, but he never got a chance to finish, as Duo walked out of the room without giving him a second glance.

"Duo?" Heero called out for the fourth time, the usual monotone rising as it was infused with something akin to panic. Every time this happened, he got more and more frightened.

His pace quickened as he looked in room after room of the estate, until finally he was running, frantically opening doors and praying he would find Duo alive and well behind one of them.

It seemed that nothing he said or did could make a dent in Duo's self-destructive behaviors. He was too hell-bent on killing himself, and every time the American went missing, Heero was terrified that Duo had actually succeeded in his final mission, however unintentional.

Lowering his shoulders in what he refused to term "defeat", Heero let the familiar anguish and concern melt into the anger he tried so hard to suppress, for Duo's sake. But he couldn't hide it any longer, and for once, he didn't want to. He _was_ angry. Angry as hell at being pushed away, yelled at, talked down to, and tricked by the person he used to regard as his best friend. He didn't even know who that person was anymore, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He stormed into his own room, slamming the door so hard behind him that it shook on its hinges. Suddenly, he was very glad that he hadn't been able to find Duo, because if he had, Heero wasn't so sure he would be able to restrain himself from punching the other man. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping the anger to himself.

Stalking toward the dresser, Heero grabbed a small table lamp and hurled it at the wall, savoring the sound of glass shattering and metal twisting. Then turning to his bed, he grabbed the white, cotton pillow, intending it to follow the same path as the lamp, but he froze as he realized, with horror, that the knife he always kept underneath it was missing.

Like Duo.

Then as quickly as the anger had surfaced, it faded once again, in favor of the terror and concern. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and he realized, with a sinking heart, that it wouldn't be the last. The estate was simply too big for him to search every floor, to look behind every door. And Duo knew this well.

Heero let himself drop down on the bed, resting the pillow on his lap, and his face in his hands. This was ridiculous, he knew. He shouldn't care _what_ the ex-pilot did to himself, as long as it was not a threat to him or to peace. He was _trained_ not to care, to simply turn the other cheek, and this feeling of warmth in his heart, the dread twisting in his stomach, were things that would only cause him trouble that he neither needed nor wanted. He knew this, and yet.. he couldn't stop these strange feelings from overtaking him.

_Maybe I should go back to J for retraining,_ he thought miserably to himself.

When did things get to be so hopeless like this? It seemed like such a short time ago that he had been learning to smile, to enjoy being in the presence of others, to allow himself to let go of the perfect soldier mask. When had all of that reversed? Why did everything suddenly seem so miserable? But even as he asked these silent questions, his mind knew the answer: _Duo_.

Burying his face further in his hands, Heero felt an unfamiliar sensation behind his closed eyelids. Didn't Duo realize that he wasn't only hurting himself? Couldn't he see how goddamn _selfish_ he was being? He wasn't the only person in pain around here![2] Blinking away the odd burning in his eyes, Heero suddenly remembered something an old friend had said to him once, when he was very little.

_Always follow your emotions_.

And this time, when the stinging in his eyes returned, the former-perfect soldier allowed the tears to slip by. For the first time in his life, Heero let the saline drops trail lazy rivers down his cheeks, and when his breathing began to hitch, he did nothing to stifle that, either.

Pulling long black sleeves over the still-bleeding cuts, Duo shoved the stolen knife into his boot and took a deep breath before creaking open the door to the closet he'd been hiding out in for the past hour. He knew that there would be a large mess awaiting him on the outside, as usual, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Duo didn't even bother trying to sneak down the long flight of stairs. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to. His steps were heavy and clumsy, his body lurching forward every so often as he struggled to remain awake. For once, he found himself wishing that Heero _had _found him, because he suddenly wasn't so sure that he would be able to make it down the stairs and to the ground level by himself.

His head was swimming, and he knew that if he didn't sit down now, his body would fall by itself. As he dropped to the floor heavily, he felt his stomach begin to contract, as it always did nowadays when he got hungry. After months of experience, he knew what was coming, and knew, also, that there was no way to stop it. He figured it was because he had trained his body so well to reject the little food he put into it that now it happened involuntarily; or maybe it was the combination of weakened stomach muscles and stress. But the cause didn't really matter, he thought, because the fact was he was left with this effect, and though he hated throwing up like this – he felt it was a rebellion of his body, and he hated not being able to control it – he refused to give in and start eating again. The thought of gaining weight was simply too scary; in the end, living with the vomiting, and other consequences, far outweighed the other option of feeling healthy, but risk getting fat.

Duo's frail arms struggled to support his full weight as he leaned over, and when he started gagging, gasping for breath, he had the presence of mind to praise himself for not giving into the temptation to indulge in eating that bagel this morning. Dry heaves were awful, but throwing up on Quatre's staircase would have been much, _much_ worse.

The spell seemed to last forever, and when it finally passed, Duo let himself collapse fully onto the ground, too exhausted to even care that he was in open view and bound to be discovered by one of the other pilots. His head was pounding, and he knew that as soon as he was able to lift himself again, he would need to eat something, or risk passing out completely.

Suddenly, a comforting hand rested on Duo's back, both surprising and embarrassing him. Despite his initial struggling, two arms managed to find their way around his waist, and they lifted the American's frail body, carrying him the rest of the way down to the living room.

Feeling something soft and cushiony underneath him, Duo opened his eyes to find two of his friends staring down at him, anxiety and concern written clearly across their faces. Wufei and Trowa, he realized. Thanking Shinigami that both Quatre and Heero were not witness to his embarrassing display of weakness – he knew that they were already suspicious, and this incident could alert them to the fact that he was not "recovered" – Duo's mind flew with excuses and lies that would distract his friends from the truth.

"What was that, Maxwell?" Wufei asked sharply, though from the look in his eyes, Duo could tell that he was concerned, rather than angry. Trowa merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, his expression doing all the speaking for him.

Forming his mouth into the old Maxwell Grin, Duo forced himself to chuckle slightly before he spoke.

"Gods, that was embarrassing." More grinning, an embarrassed laugh. "I guess I shouldn't have eaten your cooking last night, huh Wuffles?" He stuck his tongue out at the words, forgetting that he hadn't been present at dinner the night before.

Duo could see the concern in Wufei's eyes fade, and instead a look of irritation crossed the ex-pilot's face. "Do not call me Wuffles! And my cooking is just _fine_, thank you, maybe it was your stuffing your face, as usual, that made you ill?"

Although Duo knew his friend was only teasing, he couldn't help but cringe at that last remark. Noticing this, Trowa turned to Wufei and spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"I've got this covered, you can go back to your meditation."

Giving him one last scowl, Wufei retreated, and once he was gone from the room, Trowa turned again to Duo and said quietly, "He doesn't mean what he says. You know that, Duo."

The American nodded, blinking away the tears that had risen, and smiling.

"I know. He's probably right, anyway," Duo forced out. "I just ate too much. Again," he added under his breath, but Trowa caught it all the same.

"You did not eat Wufei's dinner last night. You haven't eaten with the rest of us in a while. And you have not 'stuffed your face' since the war ended over a year ago."

Duo, relieved that Heero had not told the other pilots about the late-night binging, sighed silently. He was surprised to find that his friend was so observant, but didn't let that, or the relief, show on his face. Instead, he smiled again and opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Quatre walking into the room and slipping a shy hand into his lover's.

Gazing at the Arabian affectionately, Trowa faced Duo once more as Quatre tugged on his hand, saying, "We will finish this conversation later, Duo."

But the American felt strangely disappointed at the knowledge that they would not. It always happened like that with those two – they only had eyes for each other, only room in their hearts for one. He supposed he should think it sweet to see two people so obviously in love, but Duo could only conjure up a feeling of bitter jealousy and disgust.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Duo slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, then even more slowly rose from the sofa altogether. The entire process took an entire two minutes, for he knew if he stood too quickly his blood pressure would drop dangerously low, and he wouldn't be able to stop the black from consuming him completely. He had learned this the hard way.

Keeping this in mind, Duo walked into the kitchen and forced down a bowl of rice and some orange juice, the acid in it burning his irritated esophagus and stomach on the way down. But he needed nutrients that only the juice could provide, and it was worth the pain and few extra calories to keep his secret hidden, and suspicions away.

Dropping a hand down to the stomach he thought to be so bloated after the small meal, he caressed each rib he found, letting his fingers bump down each one as he counted, and then sink in sharply as the ribcage ended.

_Bones. Lovely bones,_ he thought to himself, and repeated it through his mind to keep himself from running to the bathroom and throwing the entire thing up.

He was so caught up in the mantra that he didn't even realize he had reached his room until he heard the soft whimpers and gasps from behind the door. Suddenly, thoughts of his bones were forgotten, replaced by confusion, and concern for another – something that he hadn't felt since this whole mess began.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, so as not to alert Heero of his presence, he stepped into the room, eyes widening at the sight before him.

Heero. Heero crumpled into a ball atop his bed. Heeri _crying_.

As he took in the image, refusing at first to believe that it was real and not some hunger-induced hallucination, an intense fear flooded Duo, and he couldn't stop himself from going over to his friend and taking Heero into his arms. He was overwhelmed with a sense of love and worry, and suddenly he felt as he did all those months ago before the diet began. And he remembered the reason he had started in the first place.

Shocked, Heero pulled away sharply at Duo's touch, wiping at his face frantically and turning his body so that the American would not see the sorrow, or the shame, dancing in his eyes.

Duo was not deterred though. Instead, he only strengthened his embrace and pulled the other pilot closer. Although physically weak, he managed to keep Heero in his arms out of sheer will, and a worry that ran so deep that, for the moment, he forgot about the mass of food still in his stomach.

It was a long moment before either of them spoke. It was Duo who finally broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat, then pulling away slightly so he could look Heero in the eye as he asked quietly, "What happened? What.. what's wrong?"

It had been so long since he'd last comforted someone that he stumbled over the words, unsure of himself and feeling damn uncomfortable.

Heero could only shake his head, refusing to meet Duo's gaze. He realized that, for the first time, the tables were reversed. For the first time, it was Duo worrying about _him_, Duo trying to comfort and help _him_. Although ashamed and angry at being seen at his most vulnerable, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of bitter glee that, finally, the American would know what it was like.

"Heero, please.. Please, just look at me."

Duo tentatively placed a bone-thin hand in Heero's own, and the Japanese was so surprised at the gesture of affection that he unwillingly let his remaining walls drop, succumbing to Duo's touch.

Feeling Heero lean in closer, Duo let his free hand rest on his friend's back, rubbing it in small, reassuring circles.

"Tell me what's wrong, Heero.. please?" he tried again, sensing that Heero had stopped resisting.

"You."

It was spoken so softly that Duo almost missed it. But not quite.

"Me? What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. In all the weeks that Heero had been following him around, hiding his razors, spending hours searching for him when he disappeared and then verbally bashing him when he was found, it never occurred to him that Heero was only doing these things because he truly cared. Duo had seen him only as the enemy, someone trying to thwart him and the behaviors he had come to depend on.

"You... I..." Heero let his voice trail off, unsure of what to say next, how to express the worry he experienced each time he couldn't find Duo; the anger he felt every time he found a new cut on Duo's pale forearms, and the all-consuming terror at the thought of Duo cutting too deep and killing himself, intentional or not.

As he was pulled even closer to the American's body, so close that the prolonged embrace could now be called cuddling, it occurred to Heero that the person sitting next to him was Duo. The real Duo, _his_ Duo, not that intolerable, uncaring stranger he had been living with since the war ended. Well, if crying was what it took to get his friend to wake up and pay attention, then he would play this for all it was worth.

Willing the tears back to the surface, Heero twisted out of Duo's arms so that he could wrap his own around the bony shoulders, burying his head against Duo's chest and whimpering into his cotton tee shirt. While part of his mind was yelling at him, barking orders to push away in a voice that sounded suspiciously like J's, another was screaming even louder that this incredible embarrassment was a small price to pay, if it meant getting Duo to listen. Anything to get through to his friend before it was too late.

Forcing himself to continue, Heero whispered, "I'm...scared...that I'm going to lose you, Duo. When I can't find you, I worry that you've hurt yourself so badly that... that by the time I do find you... it will be too late." As he realized that the words he spoke were true, that he wasn't solely acting, it became almost impossible for him to continue. He'd never bared his soul to _anyone_ like this, not even Relena, and it scared the hell out of him, but he refused to back down now. "I don't... I don't like living here anymore, and I don't think I can continue doing it."

Barely keeping the look of horror off his face at Heero's last words, Duo managed to squeak out, "You mean, you don't want to live with me anymore?"

Just the mere thought was unbearable to Duo, and it sent waves of fear throughout his body.

Suddenly an idea flashed through Heero's mind, and he prayed to a god he didn't even fully believe in that this plan would work, that he would have the strength to go through with it and not put the walls back up until it was over.

"Maybe just not _here_," Heero said, his voice still muffled by Duo's shirt.

"What... what do you mean?" Duo whispered nervously, unsure of what he was getting himself into, and whether or not it was worth it.

"I mean we could get another place. A small apartment maybe, on the other side of town."

The words seemed to echo eerily in the silence that followed, each man replaying the sentence over and over in their mind.

"And if I said no?" Duo asked finally, the old defiance rising once again.

At this, Heero began to fear that his plan might not work, but the stakes were too high for him to back down now. He knew he was taking a chance by saying this, knew that it might very well push Duo _away_ instead of bring him closer, but he saw no other choice at this point.

Praying a little and pulling away, as if to back up his words, Heero said, "Then I will move out on my own."

Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes went by like lifetimes. For a moment, it looked as if Duo would yell and refuse the offer, but the fear of losing the only person who cared for him caused him to soften his features and nod once in agreement.

In resignation.

* * *

End notes: EW, THE SAP! I hate it. :S -sigh- It had to be done. But don't think this is the end [it's not even close], or that Duo's given up! The angst shall resume in the next chapter, I promise! This had to be done, for reasons that will become apparent later on. 

[1] I really, _really_ hate that word, and I don't like to use it [sounds so cold and heartless, you know?], but in this case, I just thought it sounded better, and more accurately described the picture in my head than some of the other synonyms.

[2] I'm writing this story from two perspectives, because I've been on both sides of similar situations. I don't know which is "right", or whose POV I agree with.. maybe both. Because I can relate to both.


	12. I'll Feed You Lies to Make You Smile

**Chapter Eleven:** I'll Feed You Lies to Make You Smile

Disclaimer: Don't own GW, and the chapter title is from a song by the Manic Street Preachers.

Notes: Thank you so much to DragenEyez, ShinigamiPhoenix, blood-poisoning, starlit gossamer, pUnK-RoCk['s Sk8ter chic, and camillian for the awesome reviews! [I love you guys!] You guys made me happy, so I wanted to update quickly this time.

IMPORTANT: Please see the second chapter's A/N, as I don't want to waste disk space by repeating it.

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to Michelle, whose memory will not be forgotten, and Kada, whose strength is something to be envied.**

* * *

"Hey Heero, come help me with these boxes!" Duo yelled as he struggled to carry his belongings from the large moving truck outside, up the driveway to their new apartment. It was now mid-December, and the chill of the winter air was biting into him, tinting his lips and hands blue, and numbing his limbs. The snow on the ground was slowing him down, as he lost his footing and stumbled through the open doorway.

"Hn. Baka." He heard a soft snort behind him, but when he turned around, Duo could see the mirth in Heero's eyes. "They're _your_ boxes, I've already taken mine inside. I don't see what is taking you so long."

Duo could only sigh, having no answer for his friend. At least, none that he was willing to give. He knew he was being babyish, and he knew he was acting weak, but.. he _was_ weak. The numerous trips up and down the driveway had worn him out, and he was so _cold_! He was bundled up in a thick winter coat, a scarf, a hat, two pairs of pants and heavy gloves, but still the frost was chilling him to his very core. But he could not admit these things to Heero, his pride would not allow him to.

Turning again to walk out the door, Duo's vision suddenly became blurred, and he tripped. Expecting to fall in the freezing expanse of white on the ground, he was thoroughly surprised when he found himself pressed against a warm chest, engulfed in two strong arms. Reluctant to leave the warm embrace, the American slowly pushed away, gazing into a pair of concerned, cobalt eyes.

"Thanks," he murmured, pulling out of Heero's arms completely. Suddenly, a warm hand pressed again Duo's freezing cheek, the contrast in temperatures making him gasp and pull away in shock.

Frowning, Heero took in his friend's shaking hands and blue lips.

"You're freezing, Duo. You go inside, I'll finish bringing up the rest of your boxes."

The American nodded, smiling in relief, before racing inside and plopping down on the sofa, wrapping himself in the quilt he found on top of it.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Duo felt something hot pressed into his hands, and he opened his eyes – not realizing that he had fallen asleep while waiting – to find Heero handing him a coffee mug.

Surprised by the warm gesture, Duo smiled up at his friend before raising the cup and taking a sip, only to spit it out immediately.

"What's wrong?" Heero asked, taking the mug from Duo as he frantically wiped at the corner of his mouth.

"Calories," he answered without thinking, then froze as he realized what he'd just said.

"What?" Heero snapped, fixing his friend with a cool glare, old suspicions coming back to him.

Glancing up in fear, Duo almost flinched as he took in the cold look in Heero's eyes. "It's not black," he amended. "I don't like it too sweet, that's all."

"Hn."

Taking the mug back from his friend, Duo stared into the murky depths of the coffee, studying the swirls of white – the sugar and milk – hating them, and hating himself for his horrible slip of the tongue. Those swirls, he couldn't look away from them. They were hypnotizing as they circled near the top of the thick liquid, singing out, _Drink me, drink me, drink me... _Would he have to drink it now? He should. Heero was gazing at him with those intense eyes of his, almost as if he were challenging the American. And it _was_ a challenge, Duo realized. A test. And it was one he refused to fail.

Locking his eyes with Heero, Duo once again raised the cup, taking quick gulps until he had finished the whole thing. Then slamming it down on the table in front of him, feeling like he'd lost, even though he had won.

Seeing some of the tension in Heero's face ease, the American smirked, and then stood to bring the empty mug over to the sink in the kitchen.

_Big mistake_, he thought to himself as he saw Heero following him out of the corner of his eye. He should have known better than to think that the Perfect Soldier would admit defeat so easily. Especially not over something like this.

"You're exhausted, Duo, why don't I make you something to eat." His tone made it clear that, despite the way it was phrased, it was an order rather than a suggestion.

"I'm not really that hungry, actually..." Duo fumbled, at the same time knowing that there would be no getting out of this one. Not if he wanted his secret to remain hidden.

"You must be, after carrying in all those boxes. And I know you didn't eat any breakfast."

"How-"

"We were on the road all morning. I... noticed," Heero said softly, bowing his head to avoid Duo's eyes.

Duo noted Heero's embarrassment, and, though he knew it was cruel, he snapped, "Since when do you _watch_ me and notice everything I _eat_, Heero?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. They were uncalled for, and he knew it, but couldn't help himself. He was just so angry at being caught!

But Heero only sighed, refusing to fall into the trap he knew Duo was setting.

The American was surprised at Heero's reaction. Or lack thereof. The other pilots had switched so easily to anger, lashing out and entirely forgetting about the original situation. This man was different, Duo realized.

And he wasn't sure whether to be terrified or relieved.

"Since you stopped doing it," Heero finally retorted, drawing Duo from his thoughts.

Scowling, Duo stalked over to the refrigerator, noting that there were only a few items inside. Only the necessities, as neither man had had the time to fully stock it yet.

_Good_, Duo thought to himself, grabbing a loaf of white bread and some cheese. So fattening, so many calories, but he had a point to make, and something to prove.

He wolfed down the grilled-cheese sandwich within seconds, much to Heero's relief, and when Duo went to the refrigerator for seconds, Heero walked out of the room, convinced and happy that his suspicions had been wrong.

An hour later, when the Japanese had finished unpacking his clothing, he passed Duo in the hall as he came out of the bathroom. And thought nothing of it.

* * *

Three weeks later, Duo was beginning to seriously regret his agreement to move into a smaller apartment with Heero. The place was small enough that his friend knew where he was at all times, and he couldn't even sneak out to exercise, since Heero, still fighting the training, was always awakened by the sound of a door or window opening. He was going crazy, eating three meals a day, forced back into the old cycle of binging and purging.

The upside to this was that the Japanese was completely oblivious to the abnormal behaviors going on right under his nose. All he knew was that Duo was eating, and so the fact that he hadn't gained any weight since moving in didn't really matter. As far as he knew, the cutting had stopped, for Heero couldn't find even a scratch on Duo's arms or legs. He praised himself for his good idea, not even thinking to check his friend's stomach, his chest, his thighs. Or maybe not wanting to, for he knew what he would find.

The sound of water running pulled Heero away from his thoughts, and he looked up to find that Duo had finished his meal and was now standing at the sink, washing the plate.

Giving his friend a strained, tiny smile, Duo said, "I think I'm gonna go have a shower now, you think you can handle the rest of these dishes?"

"Hn."

Heero stood, taking the plate from Duo's hands as he watched the American almost run into the bathroom. The sound of the water running in the room next to him caused Heero to smile, as he imagined the tears, screams, anger, sadness, and depression cleansed from Duo's body, washed away and forced down the drain.

In the bathroom, Duo was having similar thoughts. Throwing up the tears, screams, anger, sadness, depression, until all that was left was nothing. Cleansed, he thought, there was nothing left in his body... and nothing left in his soul.

* * *

End notes: I can't seem to write anything good anymore.. I'm sorry :(


	13. We Promote All Sickness and Disease

**Chapter Twelve:** We Promote All Sickness and Disease

**A/N**: Wow, so this is the chapter when everything starts to come together. Or.. more accurately, fall apart. This is The chapter, the one I've been looking forward to writing so much! The next chapter will be intense, and therefore SO MUCH fun for me to write!! -sigh- I thrive on the drama. I'm so sad that this will be ending soon, but I've already got an idea for a possible sequel. Hm.. Well, let me know what you think about that one, because I haven't decided yet. o.O

**Dedication:** Uh, this chapter is dedicated to (as much as I hate to say it) Melissa. Because my 6th month No Cutting anniversary is October 4th, and if we hadn't had that major fight, I wouldn't have done what I did, and thus, would still be cutting today. But, no. She had to take that from me too! -sigh-

**More notes:** So I was incredibly overwhelmed after getting so many reviews for that last chapter, and I wanted to thank everyone individually for encouraging me to keep going with this. I know I say this in, like, every chapter, but it means a lot to me. So, here are some most-likely-very-annoying "thank you"'s..

blood-poisoning: Aw, Jessi, your review almost made me cry. There's so much that I want to say in response, but it would take pages and pages to get it all out (because I can never write anything short of a novel when I talk to you! ;P).. and then there's some stuff that I don't want to write for everyone else to read. But I know and agree with everything you're saying, and feel the same way. Just.. every word of it, it mirrors the thoughts in my mind exactly. And I do understand, and I'm glad that you'd feel ok telling me, and I feel the same way about you. I hope that things are going better for you now.. You haven't updated LJ in a while, so I'm a little worried. If you ever want to talk somewhere other than here, my e-mail is in my profile (I'd put it here, but ffnet would eat it :/)

Tingel: Thanks so much, I'm glad you like it! The reason I stopped posting on the GW ML was because no one ever really responded, so I thought I was just annoying everyone. :/ But I'm glad that at least one person on the list liked it. Thanks again for the compliments.

Chamaeleon: Eee, you're the best! You bought a MSP CD because of me? YES! I've claimed another victim. (my mission in life: infect all people – especially Americans – with my insanity, turning them all into crazy MSP fanatics like myself) Yup, and it's even in my bio. ;P Oh, and thank you for your review.. I'm glad you think I'm doing a good job with writing Duo "real", because I'm always worried that I'm writing him so OOC.

starlit gossamer: Wow, there are so many things to say/answer here! Firstly, THANK YOU for taking the time to review all those chapters – you made my entire month! Now, to answer your questions..

1. When I first wrote the 40 lb. weight loss thing, I thought the same thing, I only kept it because I'd made a mistake in previous chapters and it would have been too much work to go back and change all those things. But a few weeks ago, I realized it's actually possible if your metabolism is messed up from the ED. For some people, if you don't eat a thing for three or four days, you can lose weight pretty damn quickly (like 10 pounds a week). But then gain it all back, and more, if you eat even the smallest thing, like a handful of crackers. So if Duo had been fasting, or doing hardcore restricting – which he was – at the time, it would've been possible because of his metabolism.

2. Yup, I'm most definitely positive about the white scars. When they're older, I think that's when they turn white if they were deep enough. But it takes a while. Some of mine from about 6 months ago and longer are still pinkish, but _most_ are white by now.

3. You should definitely check out the Manics!! They're so wonderful. Their lead guitarist (who didn't actually play much guitar..) was a cutter and borderline anorexic (among other things), so a lot of their lyrics are about that. And they sing about stuff that actually means something.. like abortion, and transgender, and the death penalty. They're different and cool, and everyone reading this should go check them out! (especially their earlier stuff, because it's better :X)

ShinigamiPhoenix: I'm always so happy when I get a review from you, because your story is one of my favorites! So your opinion means a lot to me, and I'm glad you like my story so far. :) Thanks so much for taking the time to leave such thought-out reviews, I always love reading your comments!

pUnK-RoCk's Sk8ter chic: Wow, tied for 1st? I'm honored! ;P And I agree with what you said about Duo, I feel the same way. Well, I guess that's why I wrote him that way, because I can relate. I think so many "Duo's" would be a lot better off if people stopped trying to force them into recovery. It doesn't do anything but push them further away, making them hide even more. But more thoughts on that in later chapters. :)

Dragen Eyez: Yes, I've been told, but I'd rather say "I suck" then say "I'm brilliant" when the writing is absolute shit. And since I can never tell if it is... -shrugs- But your reviews always give me a much-needed confidence boost, so thank you for that! I always smile when I get a review/e-mail from you.

Seven7: Thanks for the compliments! I love the Duo angst too, I don't even think that it's possible for me to even write anything different, lol.

* * *

It was a chilly night, just a week after New Year's, when Heero woke late at night to the soft tapping of fingers flying rapidly across a keyboard. He recognized the sound all too well, and for a moment he felt anger flare within him as the realization that someone was touching his laptop hit. His first reaction was to reach for the gun still hidden underneath his pillow, but before he could do so, reason and clarity flowed through his mind, and he simply lay in his bed with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He realized that Duo must have a reason – a _good_ reason – to be using his laptop without permission, and in the middle of the night no less. 

_Or at least, he'd better_, Heero thought to himself, scowling even as he evened his breathing under the pretense of sleep.

As he let the quiet tapping lull him back to sleep, Heero let his mind drift, thinking back to the day he and Duo had moved in. The American had been so different since then. So subdued, so quiet... so unlike the Duo he'd known years ago. Even in the first few days after the war ended, Heero had noticed a difference. But it had been so slight, so small, that he almost thought he'd imagined it. And he almost convinced himself that he had, but then those small things began to grow, became more and more obvious, and now Heero knew he could no longer ignore them. Afraid that if he did, the Duo he had once known would be lost forever inside the shell of a person he was living with now. The thought of that scared him even more than the dangers of emotion and attachment did, and it was this thought that finally convinced Heero that he had to make a move.

_Tomorrow_, he thought as he felt himself begin to drift. _It can wait until tomorrow_.

* * *

The smell of bacon wafting in through the open door was what pulled Duo from sleep the next morning. Wrinkling his nose in distaste – _bacon is disgusting and you don't like it, you **won't** eat it, it's not worth it_ – he yanked the covers over his head, pretending not to notice when Heero walked into the room to tell him that breakfast was ready. 

"Duo, get up, I know you're awake," Heero sighed.

When there was no sound from beneath the sheets, Heero's already fragile temper snapped, and he grabbed the lump on the bed, blankets and all, carrying it into the kitchen and depositing Duo in a chair.

"What the hell?!" Duo exclaimed, and Heero smiled because, at this point, anger - even fury - was better than no emotion at all.

"I told you that breakfast was ready," he replied shortly, placing a full dish of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of Duo, who only shoved it away.

"And I didn't answer because I'm not _hungry_," Duo snapped, narrowing his eyes at Heero.

"That's never stopped you before," Heero responded coolly, taking the plate and again placing it in front of Duo.

Feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes, Duo stared down at his breakfast through blurred vision. "Yeah, well maybe I'm not the same person I was before," he stated, voice barely above a whisper. Then, resolve strengthening, standing to place the dish on the counter.

"Duo, stop acting like a child!" Heero growled, his patience all but gone. "I'm sick of this! You're 18, now act it! You're eating breakfast, and you're eating _now_, because I refuse to play these games anymore!" And with that, Heero stormed out of the room, leaving Duo sitting wide-eyed at the table, shocked at his friend's sudden outburst.

Slamming the door to his room shut, Heero took a deep breath before opening his laptop and pushing the power button. Talking to Duo was obviously out of the question this morning, and so there was only one way to see what his friend had been doing last night on his computer. When the machine booted up, Heero brought up the history log, surprised when he found a long list of files dating back to as long as three weeks ago. He was more surprised that Duo had been forgetting to clear the log, than of the fact that the American had been sneaking onto his laptop for so long without him knowing.

Pushing the anger aside in favor of curiosity, Heero clicked on the most recent files, his eyes widening when he saw the names of the websites Duo had been visiting. He was even more horrified when he saw how long this apparent problem had been going on.

"Shit," Heero breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taking a look at the history of the week before, Heero felt his stomach lurch as the same sites were listed again and again. But, still refusing to believe that Duo could be doing something as dangerous and stupid(1) as... as _that_, Heero let the cursor hover over one of the links for a few seconds, scared to click it and have his fears confirmed, scared to walk away and let Duo kill himself. Finally, he made a decision, and as the website opened, Heero closed his eyes, needing a few more moments of ignorance before facing a truth he did not want to believe.

The title at the top of the page made Heero feel physically ill when he finally did open his eyes: "Ana is a lifestyle, not a disease!"(2)

A sudden noise in the kitchen drew Heero out of his shock, and he quickly shut down the machine, closing the top just as Duo walked into the bedroom.

Casting a worried glance at his friend standing by the laptop, Duo cleared his throat. "I, uh, finished breakfast."

Heero's mind flew with questions, threats, statements, but none of them made it past his lips. He could only stare at Duo. Stare at him in surprise, anger, guilt, concern, horror. For once, Heero's face was a contortion of different emotions, and Duo, who could read each one clearly, was beginning to feel uneasy under his intense gaze.

"It, uh.. It was good, Heero, thanks. Do you want me to do the dishes? It's only fair, you know, you cooked breakfast, I should wash the dishes, and there aren't too many, only the frying pan, a couple plates and some silverware... So, uh, I'll go get started on that, ok pal? And you can just, you know, do whatever it is you do, and.. yeah, I'm gonna go start on that," Duo stammered. He knew he was rambling, as he always did when he was nervous, so he stopped himself and practically ran out of the room before Heero had a chance to say anything in return.

_Breakfast_. Heero replayed the word in his mind, desperately trying to focus on just one train of thought. How long had it been since he had actually _seen_ Duo eat a meal? After that first day, he had assumed that everything was fine.. After all, Duo _had_ eaten those sandwiches, and he hadn't seemed to have any problem with it...

Looking back though, there had been a... what he could only call _frantic_ look in those violet eyes. A scared, almost panicked expression that Heero cursed himself for not noticing at the time. And how many times had Duo worn that same expression over the past few months? So many times, through so many meals. And through it all, Heero had only shown anger. Had only thought of Duo as stubborn, acting like a child only to drive him crazy. After the cutting had stopped – though, had it? he hadn't checked in awhile – Heero assumed that the worst was over. No more cuts meant no more problems, right? He never thought that there might be another behavior that took the place of that razor.

All the signs were there.. everything was _right there_ under his nose – the rapid weight loss and subsequent fluctuations of weight over the months, that mysterious illness that never seemed to go away, the locks of golden chestnut hair he found in the shower drain night after night – and Heero had overlooked it all, turning the other cheek and pretending he'd never noticed in the first place. As hard as he tried to be angry at Duo, he just couldn't seem to summon up that particular emotion. He only felt drained. Drained, and so damned guilty.

But, ever the Perfect Soldier, Heero turned away from those troublesome emotions, focusing instead on forming a battle plan, a course of action. He would throw himself into this mission as he did all his others. He would fight this war in the same manner he fought in the ones previous. The only problem was, the part he was playing, the old and tired role of the Perfect Soldier, wouldn't allow him to deal with the emotional side of this new dilemma – and the emotional side was the one that needed to be dealt with. Was, in fact, the one he would need to "battle" in order to win this "war". But it was too early for that, and you can only fight with weapons you already posses. So, pushing away the confusing feelings in his heart, Heero sat down at his desk to plan out what his next actions would be in his mind.

* * *

Throughout the entire day, Duo felt as though he were a specimen under a microscope, with the way Heero kept studying him and watching his every move. His old joker's mask was too out-of-use to combat Heero's cold death glares. When he finally climbed into bed for the night, Duo pulled both the blanket and sheets over his head in a vain attempt to shield himself from Heero's piercing gaze. 

It was a long while before the American fell asleep, as malnutrition was beginning to set in and sleep was now something of a luxury. But when his eyes finally closed, his body tossing and turning but nonetheless unconscious, Heero snuck out of his own bed to boot up the laptop and set Phase 1 of his plan into action.

Checking once more to make sure that Duo was asleep, Heero opened the internet and typed in the address of a site he knew Duo visited frequently. As the page loaded, Heero had to scowl at the title. It was beyond him how anyone could think that something like anorexia was beautiful, or glamorous, or cool(3). Looking away, he glanced down at his wristwatch and noted the time: 1:30 on the dot. Good. In an hour, he knew, Duo would wake up to use the computer. And this time, Heero would not pretend to sleep through it, nor would he avoid the confrontation he knew had to happen, putting it off for a tomorrow that would never come. A tomorrow that was always conveniently a day away.

A soft stirring in Duo's bed caused Heero to freeze where he was, but the American merely shifted in his sleep before falling still again. Sighing in relief, Heero quickly slipped out of the computer chair and into his bed, where he lay quietly and waited for what he knew would happen when Duo awoke.

It happened like clockwork, night after night. Duo's body, trained now to thrive on deprivation of both food and sleep, rose from slumber, stumbled into the bathroom where he had to grab the sink to keep from falling over, and drank a large glass of water to prevent his stomach from growling. He didn't know, yet, that this night would be very different from the many others he'd spent in much the same way.

Lifting his head so he could look into the mirror, Duo felt a sob rising in his throat, but he was able to choke it back. His eyes were more red now than violet, and underneath were large, black circles that no amount of makeup could ever cover up. His cheeks were hollow and sunken in, his lips thin and dry. He raised a near-skeletal hand to the top of his head, attempting to spread out the now-thin layer of hair to cover the emerging bald spots, but it was useless. Tears sprung to his eyes as Duo tore his gaze away from the hateful person he saw in front of him, and once again he was convinced that what he was doing was right. He was such an ugly person, he couldn't even stand to look at _himself_, he didn't know how Heero could bear the sight. Such an ugly person, both inside and out, so what did he have other than his body? It was all he had to work with. Other people had no need to diet, and this is what he told his online friends on a regular basis. They were all pretty, or if not that, talented. "Good" in so many ways. But all Duo had was his body, and so he would perfect this the way other people worked on their appearance and talents. The way Wufei practiced his martial arts, the way Heero focused on and obsessed over his work. Duo would be thin, because it was simply all that he had.

Sighing, Duo quickly turned away from the mirror and snuck out of the bathroom, over to the desk in the corner of the room. He was just about to boot up the laptop when he noticed something strange. The neon green light above the power button was glowing brightly, ominously, in the otherwise dark room, and Duo was _sure_ that it had been turned off when he went to sleep. And Heero would never leave it on. So that meant...

Duo quickly opened the laptop and moved his finger along the touchpad, his breath catching when the screen lit up, displaying his favorite pro ana site. Unable to even draw in enough air to breathe, Duo spun around in his chair, flinching visibly when he was met with two furious, desperate, and concerned cobalt eyes. The owner was sitting up stiffly in bed, arms folded across his chest, body language and expression demanding an explanation – now.

* * *

**End notes**: Heh. Evil authoress, right? I tried to do a good job with this one since it was sort of an important chapter, but I don't know if I succeeded very well. Well, I hope it was enjoyable anyway. :) 

1.) No offense! Heero's thoughts, not mine. :X

2.) Uh.. I don't agree with that one. But, I guess some people do, so please no negative comments on it!

3.) -points to 1-


	14. will be deleted

Ok, no chapter this time.. sorry, guys. I'm working on it, but I need help with something. In the next chapter, Wufei is going to have a huge part, and I've never written, or even _read_, a Wufei-centric fic. I know nothing about him, so I really need the help of someone who knows/has written him a lot, and has been following this story closely. My e-mail address is in my profile (every time I try to type it in here, ffet deletes it), so if you're one of those people, I would appreciate it so so so much if you could write to me and maybe help me out. Thanks in advance to anyone willing to help. :)


	15. Your Lack of Ego Offends Male Mentality

**Chapter 14:** Your Lack of Ego Offends Male Mentality

**Disclaimer**: Don't own GW, chapter title is a Manic Street Preachers lyric. I'll say it from now, since I don't want to repeat it in every chapter: Every single chapter title in this story has been, and will be, lyrics from MSP.

**A/N**: So sorry for waiting this long to update!! This chapter was REALLY hard for me to write. Seriously, I even saved the file as "hard chapter" in my MSWord, lol. :X Because of that, some parts might seem rushed, but I honestly did the best I could. Before going on to the story, I just want to say a few things..

First, I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and encouraged me to continue writing this. I stopped posting this fic on all the mailing lists I was on, and in all the GW communities I'm in, because I was so scared of what other people would think, what conflict it might cause. This is the only place TBtaE will be updated, and I don't think I would have had the strength to do that if it weren't for you guys. I haven't gotten flamed yet, though I'm sure I will before this story is done.. But I'm not so worried about it now, because obviously at least _some_ people can relate to this, and/or enjoy it. So what's so bad about one bad review, when there 99 good ones, right? ;P Thanks again for encouraging me, I really wouldn't have been able to write – and post – as much as I did if it hadn't been for some of you.

Secondly, the reason this chapter was so hard for me to write is because of some of the things that Wufei says to Duo. I just want to make it perfectly clear that I **DO NOT** agree with them, and they are **NOT** my personal opinions. My views on the subject are closer to what Duo says in his reply. But I'm staying neutral here. I won't say that anything is right, but I also won't say that anything is _wrong_.

Third. When I first started writing this, I said that I wanted to make this as close to reality as possible. And what happens at the end of this chapter sort of goes along the lines of what I _didn't_ want to happen. The fairytale happy ending, the "love cures all" cliché. So I want to say from now that this chapter isn't even _close_ to being one of the last, and that this ending isn't what it seems. But.. I think only Jessi know what I'm talking about there. ;P The rest of you shall find out soon! Now the authoress will shut up and let everyone read the story.

* * *

**Special thanks to**: dragen eyez, Shinigami's Forlorn Angel, Koku, and especially to Rashalla Entalio (whose advice and ideas saved this chapter) for the e-mails and Wufei advice – you were all really, really helpful. And, of course, Jessi (blood-poisoning) for her suggestions and opinions on the actual writing part.

* * *

"Duo, answer me!" Heero ordered, feeling incredibly helpless.

But Duo, who felt more secure now that he felt his sense of power returning, only sneered and walked into the bathroom where he began his morning ritual.

Four hours of silence had gotten Heero so worked up that he was now pacing in front of the stubborn American. His eyes were wild and bloodshot from stress and lack of sleep, the already messy hair sticking out in all directions from being pulled and ruffled in sheer frustration.

Catching Heero's reflection in the mirror in front of him, Duo couldn't bite back a bitter smile when he saw how agitated he had managed to make the once-perfect soldier. He felt calm now, more in control as he continued to anger Heero simply by staying cool and collected, and remaining totally silent. _Seems the roles have reversed now, huh Yuy?_ he taunted silently.

Seeing the grin Duo cast in his direction, Heero finally snapped. He'd been patient at first; worrying, attempting to talk, to help, to listen, to comfort. But as the minutes stretched into hours, Heero's patience grew thin and the questions turned into demands, the gentle words became frustrated yelling. This was too much, and that damned smug look on Duo's face when he saw all the frustration he was causing was the last straw.

He grabbed Duo by the shoulders, ignoring the whimper of pain coming from the American. The time for caring and talking had passed, and without any other ideas, Heero hauled Duo's fragile body out of the building and physically dragged him down the busy sidewalk, heading towards the nearest bus station.

It was now Duo who received the silent treatment, as he pleaded and begged the ex-pilot to let him go. He struggled, attempting to kick and wiggle himself free, but his efforts were futile. It wasn't a hard fight for Heero to win, as the American's strength was all but gone, the muscles he had once been so proud of now nonexistent in his near-emaciated body.

"Please Heero," he whispered, and the ex-Wing pilot felt himself falter, his resolve weakened by the pain so obvious in the broken plea. Sighing, he released his death-grip on Duo's shoulders, and instead reached down to slip his hand into Duo's, his slender fingers intertwining with those of his friend's. He tried to convince himself that it was only to prevent Duo from running away, but he couldn't ignore the small voice that warned him that he was getting too close, too attached, and that he was headed into dangerous territory.

With this small gesture of comfort, Duo felt himself relax just slightly; relieved, if nothing else, that Heero didn't despise him after everything he had pulled that morning, and in the weeks past.

After walking only a few blocks, Heero began to regret that in his haste, he had opted not to call for a taxi. Duo, no longer resisting, was lagging behind, attempting to hide how tired and sick he felt, but not succeeding. Finally, Heero sighed heavily and stopped walking. Spotting a bench only a few feet away, he helped Duo walk over to the spot and then forced him to sit, rolling his eyes at the American's protests, shouts that he was fine and could make it.

"How do you feel?" Heero asked quietly, attempting to infuse his voice with as much emotion as possible, knowing that the familiar monotone would get him nowhere in this situation. Would, in all probability, only push Duo further away.

Glancing up at his friend in surprise, Duo's protests died on his tongue as he felt those old feelings in his heart return. As much as he tried to convince himself that Heero didn't really care, that he was only acting to get a response out of him, Duo just couldn't bring himself to lie to the face that, for once, looked so open and expressive. So warm and caring. So far from the Heero he had gotten used to over the years.

As he continued to look into those deep, passionate blue eyes, Duo felt the familiar hunger pangs replaced by the butterflies he had all but forgotten about. The warm hand on his knee broke down Duo's remaining walls, and as Heero kneeled down in front of him to get a better look at his face, he found himself responding truthfully without even thinking.

"A.. a little tired," he muttered, hating himself for his weakness. _Pathetic_, his mind taunted over and over.

Heero frowned and reached for Duo's wrist, rolling up the sleeve and feeling immense relief when he found no new cuts or scratches on the pale forearm. (_Annoying A/N: the cutting situation will be explained later, most likely in an A/N, because I think I'm going to have Duo "switch" addictions and have him be mostly ED'ed for the rest of the story, so that way I can focus solely on cutting in the sequel_) But as he pressed two fingers above the palm, his renewed hope again shattered when he felt how erratic and weak the pulse throbbed beneath his hand. He didn't let the disappointment or concern show on his face, however.

For the first time in his life, Heero Yuy felt truly scared. This personal war was taking its toll on him, the emotional battles so much harder to fight than the physical ones he'd conquered so easily in his Gundam. But, all the same, he would not admit defeat. Not now, not ever. Raising himself to sit beside Duo on the bench, Heero took the American's thin arm in his hand – part an attempt to comfort, part to prevent him from running – and braced himself as he said, "You.. you need to eat something." Cursing himself as the voice came out so weak, so unsure.

"Fuck you," Duo hissed, and Heero drew back in shock. Stubbornness, anger, indifference, and misery were all emotions that he had grown used to in Duo, but this.. this was something new. Something more. The voice that spoke those harsh words radiated pure, unadulterated hate. And Heero wasn't sure whether it was in response to the suggestion, or he himself. But either way, he felt his mask slipping back into place, the need for comfort gone now that Duo had stopped responding to it.

"You wouldn't have the stamina," Heero snapped in return, surprising even himself with the words. He felt his cheeks begin to burn and he looked away quickly, pulling Duo, who was shocked into compliance, along with him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Duo finally screamed as he was led into the entrance of a small bus station.

"Because," Heero said gruffly, fed up and tired, "I cannot handle you anymore. You refuse to listen to reason, and I am not equipped to handle this situation alone."

Duo froze, his body stiffening, causing Heero to stop where he was.

"Where are you taking me?" Duo whispered harshly, eyes hardening as he yanked his hand free from Heero's.

"We are going to Quatre's," Heero responded, grabbing Duo by the shoulders and leading him onto the waiting bus.

The rest of the ride was spent in much the same way, the American squirming in his seat, fighting Heero with everything he had. But even as he struggled against the warm arms wrapped around him, he knew that it was useless. They were in a moving vehicle, and even if he did somehow manage to free himself from Heero's iron grip, there would be nowhere for him to go. It was when this realization sunk in that he allowed himself to sag against Heero, at the same time swearing to himself that the fight would resume once they were off the bus.

* * *

The sound of the doorbell ringing echoed throughout the estate, but it was Duo's voice, loud and wailing, that drew all three ex-pilots to the door. 

A blonde head peeked out, surprised at the scene before him, before hurriedly pulling the door open fully, revealing three shocked and confused men.

Heero grunted as Duo kicked him in the shin, sure that he had acquired many bruises and scratches in the time that ithad takento carry Duo the short distance from the bus station to Quatre's mansion.

"Yuy?" Wufei asked, by way of greeting.

"May we come in?" Heero all but snarled, frustrated that his friends were still blocking his passage.

They moved aside quickly and Heero breathed a quick sigh of relief as he stepped inside, finally relinquishing his weakening grip on Duo. The small American wasted no time in racing towards the nearest bathroom, and Heero had to wonder where the sudden burst of energy came from, when not even an hour ago Duo had barely been able to walk down the sidewalk.

"Yuy, _what_ is going on?" Wufei demanded as the sound of a door slamming was heard in the distance.

And Heero shocked everybody, once again, by throwing his arms up in frustration, recounting the events of the past few months as he sunk wearily into a chair.

* * *

In the bathroom, Duo sat curled up in the corner against a wall and the door, his body shaking as he pressed an ear to the wood. He couldn't make out much, for even Heero's yelling was quiet, compared to a normal person's. He heard only a few select words, shouted as loud as Heero's voice would go: "laptop", "eating", "weight", and – he shivered at the last one – "anorexia". 

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," he chanted to himself in a whisper, standing up and frantically tearing through the medicine cabinet above the sink, searching for a razor, scissors, safety-pins, _anything_ sharp, anything at all that would allow him that small, but wonderful, moment of relief.

Finding nothing, Duo started pacing, ignoring the dizziness. His hands shook, and he thought in nervous amusement that they looked like a junkie's who needed a fix. But the joke was lost quickly as he realized that that was indeed what he was. An addict lacking their drug of choice.

The reflection in the bathroom mirror as he passed it angered him. He stopped his pacing to take the time to stare at himself, picking out and berating himself for every flaw that he found. The eyes that were too big, the cheeks that were too round, a million other things that he feared he would never be able to correct.

Suddenly, he had an idea and he grabbed the bottle of soap on the sink to smash the mirror with (solving both of his problems, he reasoned), but was shocked when a cool hand clamped down on his raised arm before it could connect with the glass.

Turning around, frightened violet eyes met angry cobalt, and Duo could do nothing but let out a small whimper as Heero guided him out of the small bathroom andinto the kitchen where the ex-pilots were waiting in an eery silence.

He smelled the food before he saw it.

"No," Duo whispered as Quatre approached hesitantly, holding out a plate of what Duo supposed they considered "light, healthy" food.

"Please, Duo," Quatre pleaded, in a whisper similar to Duo's. "Only a little, I promise.. just a few bites?"

Salad, yogurt, a muffin, peanut-butter on wholewheat bread.

Duo let himself be led to the kitchen table, but when Quatre attempted to place the food in front of him, Duo jumped away, frightened by its mere presence.

_The salad wouldn't be so bad.. But it's covered in dressing!.. It wouldn't be _so_ terrible, would it? Just a bite of the muffin?.. NO! One bite leads to two, two leads to three, and pretty soon you've scarfed down the entire thing in less than a minute!_

Two strong hands pressed him into the seat again, and when Duo looked around, he could plainly see the horror written across each and every face.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STARING AT?" he screamed, mask fully gone, and everyone jumped back in surprise.

The room was silent, save Duo's heavy breathing.

"Someone. Say. Something," Duo ground out, his mind spinning. _Anything_ would be better than the silence, he thought.Yelling he was used to, lectures he was used to, but this..?

"Duo. I told them," Heero began gently, and Duo found himself rolling his eyes. _Well, no shit._ "Please.. Eat something."

The food was placed in front of Duo again, and the American could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, could hear the blood pounding in his head. _No, NO, I can't eat, not here, not in front of them!_

Duo found himself paralyzed under everyone's gazes, and before he even realized what he was doing, the plate was thrown across the room, porcelain shards raining down against the opposite wall.

"Maxwell," Wufei growled, but before he could get out another word, Duo jumped out of the kitchen chair, the force knocking it over with a loud crash.

"_Don't_," Duo hissed, "I _know_ what you're going to say and I don't want to hear it!"

"I… I don't understand," Quatre said quietly, creeping closer to Duo. "I don't understand at all.. We care so much about you, I don't understand why you would hurt yourself like this! What is it that you're doing, Duo?" When the American showed no signs of response, the blonde turned towards the rest of the group. "I've never heard of.. of..."

Wufei sighed, and with sad eyes he glanced up at Duo. "Pro Anorexia," he stated, and everyone froze as the words that had been repeating through everybody's minds were finally said out loud. "It's.. It's an 'undergroud' community, consisting mostly of girls aged 12-19. They create webpages with tips on how to.." his eyes grew colder and he looked away before continuing, "how to starve yourself, and how to hide your condition from friends and family. The people who _care_ about you," he stated, looking pointedly at Duo. "They contain pictures of emaciated models, and these websites often create eating disorders in young girls who view them."

Quatre gasped, and Duo fought the urge to roll his eyes again at the blonde's naiveté.

"That's not exactly it," Duo interjected, glaring at Wufei who could only stare back sadly.

"Yes Maxwell, that _is_ exactly it. These webpages have been around for hundreds of years, and they seem to only be growing in number. What I don't understand," he continued, turning around so that he was fully facing Duo, "is why _you_ are engaging in this behavior, participating in this.. this horror. By the looks of you, I'd say you've been doing this for a long time now, and-"

"What do you mean?" Duo interrupted worriedly, "'by the looks of' me?"

"Your _body_, Maxwell," Wufei replied, "your weight!"

He knew he shouldn't ask it. He knew that it would only make things a _million_ times worse than they already were, but his insecurities were too great to let the comment go by.

"My weight.. You mean I'm fat?" Duo asked in a meek voice, half praying that nobody had heard.

"NO!" Wufei yelled, appalled. "You've got _no_ fat, you're so.. so tiny, there's _nothing_ to you but skin and bones," he finished, the anger fading, replaced by only a deep concern for a good friend.

Duo only barely resisted the urge to say "thank you", and instead just nodded his head, staring at thewhite tilingof the kitchenfloor.

"Do you understand how serious your condition is, Maxwell? Do you understand that you could _die_? Yuy has already informed us that your health – your pulse, heart rate, temperature – have been affected, and it worries me to see that you are still only concerned with how your body looks. To know that, despite all the obvious medical and emotional problems, you still continue to view thesedestructive websites."

"Look Wufei, no offense, but you have no right to preach something you know nothing about," Duo stated irritably, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a gesture of defense.

"But you know nothing about it either!" Wufei insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he attempted to get through to his friend. "You don't understand what you're doing to yourself – what you're doing to your online 'friends'! And what about everyone else, the people who truly care about you? What about me, Heero, Quatre and Trowa? Can't you see that you're hurting _us_ by doing this to yourself?"

"Look, I know perfectly well what I'm doing to myself, I don't need this shit from you, Wufei!" Duo exclaimed, his frustration raising along with his voice.

"No, you _don't_ know, Maxwell, and what you're doing is an injustice not only to yourself and to your friends, but to anyone else who happens to come across your 'advice' online. You risked your life every day for three years trying to stop the killing, to save innocent lives – but don't you see that you're doing the very opposite now by.. by _promoting_ this _disease_? You might as well still be piloting Deathscythe, because what you're doing now is no different. It's killing, it's murder!" Then, voice catching, "It's suicide. I don't understand, Maxwell, why? _Why_ would you want to do something as stupid as this? Surely you know that it's wrong.. that there are other ways? What about coming to us? Any one of us would put their life on the line for you, Ma- Duo, because we _care_ about you. Not those people who claim to be your friends. They don't care, and if they did, they would be saying what I'm saying now, _not_ giving you advice on how to hurt yourself further."

"No, see that's where you're wrong, Wufei," Duo said icily, and the tone made everyone in the room freeze. "I know exactly what I'm doing. To myself, to all of you, to my friends – my _real_ friends – online. I know it's selfish, dammit, I know there are other ways! But coming to you?" he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm as he gestured to the four ex-pilots in the room with wild arms, all of them staring back at him in shock. "You say you care, and maybe you do… _now_. Now that you know. But what about before? What about right after the war when I couldn't get through the night without crying, without nightmares, when I didn't come out of my room for days at a time, where were you _then_, huh? What about your 'space-heart', Quatre? You can sense pain from Heero when he broke up with his fucking Perfect Princess, but you can't tell when I'm so miserable that the only thing left for me to do is _starve_? Even when I'm throwing up, passing out, falling down right in _front_ of you?! Am I mistaken, Quatre, or wasn't it _you_ who caught me in the kitchen that morning? Were the Great Shinigami's lies so believing that they fooled even you, the empath, or were you just too caught up in your own life with Trowa to even give a _shit_ about the person you claim to 'care so much' about!"

By this point, Quatre was sobbing into Trowa's chest, hating himself because, vengeful as they were, the words were true.

"I.. I didn't know," he whispered sadly, half an apology, half by way of explanation. "You told us that you were sick, and…" He let his voice trail off as Duo's hurt and anger suddenly overtook him – and he wondered how he had let himself block it all out before. How he had managed to miss such powerful, overwhelming emotions.

"Yeah, well I _was_ sick," Duo continued, furious now. "Sick and tired of being ignored and left out, of being the _only one_ who couldn't find a place in society after the war. Wufei, you say that what I'm doing is wrong, but tell me: What else was there for me to do?" Met with only a shocked silence, he continued. "And now I'm sure that I made the right decision in not going to any of you. You accuse me, and you blame me, say _horrible_ things about something you know NOTHING ABOUT! It seems to me, Wufei, that _that's_ the injustice. You say it's like murder, but it's not. Because the only person I'm killing is _myself_. If some little girl happens across a website, she won't 'catch' the 'disease' unless she's already predisposed and would have gotten sick at another point in her life anyway. Be it an eating disorder, cutting, alcohol, drugs, or _any_ other form of self-abuse – take your pick! Someone doesn't just 'develop' anorexia from reading about it on the fucking internet, not unless the seed has already been planted.. and in that case, like I said, the self-abuse would have come out at any other time in any other way. 'Ana' is just.. our chosen method. We – or, at least, _I_ – know that it's not good, and it's not fun, not glamorous, not cool, not _anything_ positive in any way, shape, or form. It's making the best out of an already-bad situation. Yes, _already bad_, I'm not as disillusioned as you all seem to think! 'Pro ana' is making the decision to continue down that road of self-destruction – the road you would have traveled anyway, pro or not – with friends, with people who care, who won't judge, or try to change you. Essentially, it's the acceptance that draws us in. I never asked to become.." he choked on the word, "..anorexic. But once it became an option, I jumped at it, because it's _the only fucking thing that I had_. I'm not kind like you, Quatre, not talented like you, Trowa, not strong like Wufei, and not smart like Heero. It was so easy for all of you to get back to a normal life after the war, and I _wish _I could do that, but I just can't. I tried, I tried _so hard _but nothing worked, and I just gave up! I'm not like the rest of you, I don't have any of the qualities that make you guys so strong. This is all that I have.. all I've _ever_ had. I can do this, and I can be the best. And I will, because it feels good. It feels fucking _good_ to finally be accepted in a community, in society, to find my place; to find that, after all these years of living as a worthless shit with _nothing_ going for me, I actually am good at something.

"It's too late for the 'We care, Duo' shit now.. Way too damn late." And his voice was barely above a whisper as he finished, exhausted by the longest speech he had given in almost a year. He felt tired, but he refused to sit. He was dizzy, but would not ask for food. He could feel tears pricking behind his closed eyelids, but he was determined not to let them fall. Any of these things would have betrayed his weakness, proving that his friends were right in their accusations and logic. Duo had never felt more exposed or vulnerable in his life.. and the feeling scared the shit out of him.

Heero was the first to pull out of the trance Duo's words had left them in. Walking over to Duo, he rested a hand gently on the other's back, feeling sick – but not pulling away – as he caressed the sharp, protruding bones.

"Come sit, Duo," he urged, noting with alarm the slight sway of the American's body. When Duo made no move to follow the order, Heero took hold of an all-too-thin arm and led him over to a chair in the living room, relaxing when Duo let himself collapse into it.

Shifting uncomfortably in the overstuffed cushions, Duo looked around the room at his friends, taking note of the expressions, the eyes, the postures. Quatre clutched onto Trowa as if he were a lifeline, and Duo could see that the strong hands wrapped tightly around Quatre's back were white, and shaking just slightly. Wufei stood straight and stiff, his head bowed down, expression unreadable. And – he had to stop and do a double take, not trusting his own eyes – Heero was the most expressive of them all, dark eyes shining brightly with saddness, with guilt, with.. concern?

It was Quatre who broke the maddening silence this time as he asked the question that seemed to be on everyone's mind:

"But why, Duo? _Why_ did you decide to start such a thing?"

Duo was impressed that the voice betrayed none of the emotion he could read plainly in Quatre's eyes, but as the question sunk in he began to panic when his reason, long forgotten, came flying back.

_Don't do it_, his mind screamed at him, _don't use _this_ as a distraction!_

But it was the only thing he could think of, his head filled with images from so long ago. Memories of him staring in the mirror and asking, _Am I perfect yet? Can Heero love me yet?_

Glancing away, his guilty conscience not allowing him to look at a single face, he whispered, "Because I love you." _Loved_, a voice reminded him. He ignored it. "I fucking love you, Heero."

TBC...

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OMG, it's finally done. –rejoices- I think that was the hardest thing I've ever written in all the years I've been posting on ffnet. . 


	16. AN

Sorry to disappoint, but I don't, at this time, have any more chapters to post. I just wanted to write a quick A/N to let you guys know that I'm still alive and thinking about this story. But I'm not sure whether or not I'm going to be continuing with this. At least not for a little while. It's not going the way I want it to at all, and my life has taken a few turns lately that are pulling me away from TBtaE, and writing in general. I don't plan on keeping this unfinished forever, so for those who've been following this story from the beginning, keep checking back. Thanks to everyone who has supported me throughout this entire thing – I know I say this all the time, but your reviews and comments have meant a lot to me. :>


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